


Emma Swan and the Wolfsbane Potion

by Scheherezade06



Series: Once Upon a Time-Turner [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scheherezade06/pseuds/Scheherezade06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan OUAT/HP Crossover with Killian Jones cast as a Hufflepuff.  This story takes place over Emma Swan's fifth year at Hogwarts, starting at Christmas Break.  Please read "HPKJ Backstory" before you read this one!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Morning

Emma hadn’t stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas break since her first year.  Mary-Margaret had insisted she spend the holidays with her family for the past three years, but the Blanchards were on a vacation in Egypt this winter.  So, Emma was stuck at school on the Christmas morning of her fifth year at Hogwarts.  

There was only one table in the Great Hall that morning, and there was only one student eating breakfast when Emma came down.  He was right at the middle of the table, like the whole thing was his, but Emma could see the defensive slump of his shoulders.  His normally sparkling blue eyes were sad, downcast.   His mop of unruly hair was just as wild as it ever had been, but it looked a little less  _messy-on-purpose_  and more  _I-just-woke-up_. 

Like Emma, Killian Jones had come down to breakfast in his pajamas.  While hers were pale pink and plaid (a gift from Mary-Margaret), his were solid navy blue with a yellow collar and buttons.  His collar was popped up, but like his hair, Emma couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or accident. 

Emma padded her way down the opposite side of the table from the sixth year boy and stepped over the bench across from him.  He looked up suddenly, as though she’d apparated instead of walked up to him.  His eyes were a little red.  Perhaps he hadn’t slept well.  Emma knew her own eyes probably matched his.

“Happy Christmas,” he said without a trace of happiness.  “Swan, isn’t it?”

“That’s me,” she said, sitting down across from him.  “Merry Christmas, Jones.”

“You’ve heard of me,” he said with a ghost of a smirk.  “Good things, I hope.”

She rolled her eyes and started filling her plate.  They ate in silence for a minute.

“I didn’t know you were one of the Lost Boys,” he said eventually, his eyes meeting hers with an appraising expression before darting around the empty hall.

“Lost Boys?” she said, looking around in confusion for a moment before his meaning dawned on her.  “You mean orphans.” 

He nodded with a wry smile, clearly pleased that she’d caught the dark humor.

“Aren’t you a pure blood?” Emma asked.  “How do you know about the Lost Boys?”

“Love muggle literature, me,” he said, all bravado and smugness, “love to see how wrong they are about magic.”

“Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Like all that rubbish about ‘true love’s kiss’ breaking any curse,” he made a dismissive snort.

“You’ve read Snow White?” she accused incredulously.

“Does that surprise you?” he said gently, his eyes more honest than she’d expected with his flirtatious reputation.

“Actually, yeah,” Emma said.  She chewed on her lip for a moment.  “Will you be taking the class, then?”

“Class?” his eyebrows shot up.  He looked genuinely curious.

“The Muggle Literature class that we’re trying to create,” she said, reaching for a cinnamon roll from a tray on his side of the table. 

He plucked a particularly decedent-looking sweet bun from the tray and offered it to her.

“Who is ‘we’?” he said as she took the roll from him, their fingers brushing.

“Thanks,” she murmured, setting the pastry on her plate and then licking the errant icing from her fingers. 

Killian was mirroring her, also cleaning his own hand with his mouth.

Emma looked away, trying to remember what he’d asked.

“Um, some friends of mine…” Emma said, taking a breath before looking at him again, “Professor McGonagall said she’d sponsor it if we get enough students.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding.  “I think Briars mentioned something about that.”

“Aurora?”  Emma said, surprised that he’d know the younger girl.  Then the realization hit her.  “Right, you’re both on the Quidditch team.”

“Aye,” he said.  He looked amused but slightly disappointed.

Emma dimly remembered the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin game from October.  She knew that Hufflepuff had won, but she and her other roommates had left when the game entered its fourth hour.

“I didn’t stay for the whole game,” Emma admitted, smiling apologetically.

“Neither did I,” Killian said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“What?” she said incredulously.  “You were  _playing_  in that game!”

“We were up by 270 with Slytherin yet to score,” he shrugged.  “So I popped off for a drink.”

Emma gaped at him for a moment.  She absolutely believed that he was telling the truth, but she still couldn’t quite imagine that he’d really done it.  How had nobody noticed that the Hufflepuff Seeker had wandered off?

“What if the score had changed?” she asked, eyes wide.

“No one can get past Graham, Swan,” Killian said with an easy shrug.  “He’s the best Keeper we’ve had in years.  The only way the score could have changed is by going up for us by quaffle or up for them by snitch.  We’d already won, so I let Jefferson find the little golden bugger to offset the trouncing.”

Emma just shook her head, turning her eyes back to her breakfast.  She poured herself a mug of cocoa.

“We’ll see how you do in January, aye?” Killian said quietly after a moment.

Emma’s head snapped up.  He was smiling at her, almost shyly—where did  _that_  come from?

“What,” she said, as if she didn’t know what he meant.  

“Of course I know you made the team, love,” Killian said, back to his usual, cocky smirk.  “I’m the Captain, it’s my job to know.  Anyway, Dave told me.  Well, threatened me’s more like.  He thinks rather highly of you.  He was all ‘watch your backside, Jones,’ and placing wagers.”

Killian picked up a strip of bacon and took a bite out of it, still watching her.

“You know David,” Emma said, still off-balance.

“Respective team captains in the same year?”  Killian said, raising an eyebrow again.  “Aye, we’ve met.”

Emma snorted at the sarcasm but made no reply.

“So, you’re the new seeker for Gryffindor,” Killian said, leaning forward on his elbows so he could study her.  “I hope you’re as good as Dave says.  I love a challenge.”

His smile was practically predatory.   _This_  was the Killian Jones she’d heard about: hopeless flirt, cocky pretty-boy, confident team captain.  She could deal with that. 

“Yeah?” she said, leaning forward and grinning right back at him, “well David’s wrong.  You’ll be watching  _my_  backside as I beat you to the snitch.”

“I wouldn’t mind the view, love,” he said saucily with a wink.

Emma’s mouth fell open when she realized what she’d said.  Clearing her throat, she decided to change the subject.

“So, are you interested in taking the lit class?” she asked, trying to regain her composure.  She took a long sip of her cocoa.

“How many more do you need to make it happen, love?” he said, taking a drink from his own mug.

“We need at least seven, preferably ten, and we’ve already got…” she quickly counted in her head: _Me, Mary-Margaret, Ruby, Belle, Ariel, Aurora, probably David if Mary-Margaret has any say in it…_ “Six definite yeses and one maybe.”

Killian nodded, looking thoughtful.

“Any year?” he asked.

“Third years and up,” she said, nodding at him.

“Aye, you can count me in,” he said seriously, giving Emma a little nod.

“Really?” she breathed, beaming.

 “Aye,” he said, favoring her with a genuine smile, “and I can fill your quorum, I think.  August will be thrilled—loves books, him—and if Briars is in, I can convince Phil.  Maybe Graham, too…”

“Thank you, Jones,” she said seriously.

“You could call me Killian, lass,” he teased with a smirk.

“That’s not what’s on your jersey,  _captain_ ,” she sassed back.

“So you have been watching my backside, eh, Swan?” he lilted, grinning.  His blue eyes sparkled merrily.

“In your dreams,” she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, winking again.


	2. The Shrieking Shack

It was the first Hogsmead weekend in January, and the little village was blanketed in a postcard-perfect layer of snow.  The lanes and paths had been swept and salted, but drifts of fluffy white still lined them, tempting students to make angels, build snowmen, and pelt each other with packed balls of snow.

Emma, Mary-Margaret, and Ruby had escaped a particularly involved snow-battle, where the combined legions of Ravenclaw and Slytherin were trying to defeat a small holdout of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor boys who were taking shelter behind a rather impressive ice fort.

David had dived into the fort to aid the underdog defenders, but the three Gryffindor girls had sprinted off, leaving him behind and trying to shield themselves from random artillery. 

They squealed and ran, not pausing until they reached the edge of the field that separated Hogsmead proper from the notorious Shrieking Shack.

There they stopped to catch their breath and decide where next to go. 

Mary-Margaret was trying to convince the other two to go back into town for a round of butter beer at the Three Broomsticks, but Emma didn’t want to try to renegotiate their way through the snow-war.

Ruby was uncharacteristically quiet, leaning on the fence, looking out toward the crooked little house.

After a minute, the other two girls stopped their debate to look at their friend.

“Why are you staring at the creepy place?” Mary-Margaret said.

“It looks… peaceful,” Ruby said.

Emma raised an eyebrow. 

Ruby looked at her two roommates staring at her with disbelieving expressions.

“What?” Ruby said.  “Look, it’s all out there by itself.  No one around.   _Peaceful_.”

“Or lonely,” Mary-Margaret said.

“Even  _you_  occasionally want some time alone,” Ruby said, casting Mary-Margaret a sideways glance. 

“Okay,” Mary-Margaret said in surrender, holding up her hands.  “I guess I could see the appeal, if you were having a bad day.  But I think I’d generally prefer to spend time with my loved ones.”

“That’s not always an option,” Ruby mumbled. 

Emma set her hand on Ruby’s shoulder in sympathy.  She opened her mouth to say something, but a voice from behind the girls made Emma pause.

“Well, well,” Regina said condescendingly.  “Shopping for your dream home?  Bit grand for you, isn’t it, Blanchard?”

“Leave her alone, Mills,” Emma said.

“Or what,  _Duckling_ ,” Regina sneered.

“Don’t call her that,” Ruby said, stepping forward.

“Or what?” Regina purred, sliding her wand out from beneath her robe.  “You’ll call your _grandmother_?”

Emma took a step forward, reaching for her own wand. 

Just then a ball of snow hit Regina square in the face. 

The Gryffindors all turned to see who had thrown it, but there was no one there.

“Show yourself!” Regina commanded, brandishing her wand.

A moment later, another ball of snow hit her, this time in the back of her head.

Everyone looked again, but no one was behind Regina.

“Perhaps we should go?” said Sidney Glass, taking Regina’s arm.

She shook him off.

“When I find out how you’re doing this, Blanchard—” Regina started, but she was cut off by another giant snowball to the face.

Blustering and cursing, Regina let Sidney lead her away. 

The Gryffindor girls snickered as she left, breaking into a full-fledged fit of laughter after the Slytherins had rounded the corner.

“What was that?” Emma asked.

“Maybe it was the ghosts that haunt the Shrieking Shack,” Mary-Margaret said.

Emma scoffed.

“Whatever it was, it was well-deserved,” Emma said.

“Thank you, ghosts!” Ruby called out, grinning.

Emma heard what she would have sworn was a muffled chuckle from a behind them, but when she looked over her shoulder, there was no one there.


	3. Muggle Lit 1

Emma chewed on her thumbnail with concern.  Without Killian and the other Hufflepuffs, there were only five Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls in the classroom—in  _Trelawney’s classroom_ , at that.  Why had Professor McGonagall scheduled the introduction to muggle literature class  _here_  of all places? 

The dark red curtains had been mercifully pulled back, allowing sunlight to filter into the dusky room.  There was a fine dusting of snow in the window sill closest to Emma.  The room was a little chilly this time of year; students had only just come back from Christmas break a few days before, and it seemed like the north tower had been frozen solid during their absence.  It was such a strange contrast to the way the room was stiflingly hot when Trelawney used it.

The two Ravenclaw girls, Belle French and Ariel Sebastian, were chatting quietly at one of the little tables, while Ruby, Mary-Margaret, and Emma sat in their own little clump.  Ruby and Mary-Margaret were talking in animated whispers, but Emma wasn’t really listening.  Her eyes were fixed on the trap door in the floor of the room.

Emma gave a visible sigh of relief when the Hufflepuffs arrived—five of them, as promised; Aurora and four boys.  All conversation among the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls stopped as the boys entered. 

Hufflepuff boys had that effect on most girls.  Helga had good taste.

A messy head of brown hair popped up first.  Emma recognized August Booth, from her own year.  He caught Emma’s eye and winked at her as he climbed into the room. 

Killian Jones followed, his hair just as artfully tousled as August’s—maybe it was a Hufflepuff thing.   Killian looked positively wicked with his shirt collar popped up and his tie hanging loose.  The buttons of his shirt above his vest were both undone.   He gave Emma an amused little grin when he spotted her. 

The Hufflepuff keeper climbed up next, devilishly handsome in his own way (and just as tousled as the two previous boys; this was definitely a trend).   _Graham_ , she remembered dimly.  Graham surveyed the class in an appraising manner, his eyes lightly touching everything and everyone as he climbed into the room. 

Graham was followed by Aurora Briars, the pretty third year, who looked around with the slightest frown as she waited near the trap door for her fellow chaser, Phillip Kingston, a fourth year.  Phillip was just as handsome and messy-haired as the other three, though his hair was shorter.  Aurora immediately tucked herself under Phillip’s arm and dragged him as far away from the other girls as possible in the small, round room.

“How do Hufflepuff girls ever get any homework done?” Ruby murmured to Emma and Mary-Margaret during the procession.  “ _Yum_.”

Mary-Margaret tittered at that.  Ruby looked like she was going to say something more, but she stopped as Professor McGonagall climbed through the trap door.  The Hufflepuffs quickly found seats.  August spread out near the middle of the room, his feet kicked up on one of the low tables.  Killian and Graham sat down somewhere behind Emma’s group.  She could feel his eyes on her.  She looked over her shoulder to see the two sixth year boys lounging like ridiculously handsome cats.  Killian caught Emma’s eye and quirked a brow at her, his gaze slowly trailing over her back.  His mouth moved, carefully forming words at her with no sound: “I’ll watch your backside.” 

She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to face the professor. 

“Welcome to ‘Introduction to Muggle Literature’,” trilled McGonagall.  “This will largely be a student-driven course, since there is not yet a formal curriculum established for it.  You will be researching and presenting your work through a series of story reviews.  We will only meet formally once every two weeks, but I expect you to make time to meet with your partners to complete your projects between classes.”

Partners?

“Partners?” Mary-Margaret said, speaking Emma’s thought.

“Yes, Miss Blanchard,” Professor McGonagall said.  “I think that you’ll find having someone to discuss your assigned readings with will be quite useful in interpreting themes.”

“Will we be choosing our own partners?” Belle asked. “Or will they be assigned?”

“A little of both,” McGonagall said.  She surveyed the students in the room and then gave a little nod.  “In the spirit of exploration that this class should embrace, students will not be allowed to partner with someone from their own house.”

Aurora made an unhappy gasp.

Mary-Margaret was frowning.

“And,” the professor went on, “since they are outnumbered, I think I will let the gentlemen choose with whom they wish to work.”

Killian, Graham, and August grinned at one another.  All of the boys in the class were Hufflepuffs, so they’d each be working with a girl.  There was a moment of silent communication between them, and then August sat up straight. 

“I’m going to claim the pretty brunette Ravenclaw,” he said, grinning at Belle.  “If you’ll have me?”

“I’ll take you,” Belle replied gamely, giving him an appraising look. 

Graham stood up and approached the table where the Gryffindor girls were gathered.  He actually knelt down in front of Ruby and took her hand.

“Will you do me the honor of being my class partner?” he said, staring into her eyes with only the slightest hint of mirth.

The other boys snickered in the background.

Ruby bit her lip and nodded, grinning.  Her cheeks might have pinked a little, but it was hard to tell in the divination classroom’s strange lighting.

“Swan?” Killian said from behind Emma.

“Yeah?” Emma said, turning to look at him.

“Good, that’s settled,” he said with a little smirk.

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but she realized she was either stuck with him or one of the lovesick chasers who were still bickering in the corner.  They didn’t seem to realize it was Phillip’s turn.  Finally, the silence caught up to them.

Aurora looked at the class and frowned. 

“Ariel,” she said tentatively, “you could work with Phillip, right?”

Ariel smiled at Aurora.  Emma knew the two girls were in the same year.

“I believe I said it was the gentlemen’s choice, Miss Briars,” McGonagall said.

“I choose Ariel,” Phillip said dutifully.

“That leaves Miss Briars and Miss Blanchard to work together,” the professor said.

Mary-Margaret smiled at the Hufflepuff girl, and Aurora gave her a tentative smile in return, but she clearly had assumed this class would be a way to spend more time with her boyfriend.  Emma predicted that the class would be down to eight rather shortly.

McGonagall instructed everyone move to sit with their partners.  Graham was already by Ruby, so Emma and Mary-Margaret got up to join their respective workmates. 

Emma took the spot that Graham had vacated next to Killian, though she sat upright instead of reclining the way the Hufflepuff seeker did. 

“Thanks for showing up,” Emma said quietly to Killian once she was settled.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he replied with a slight incline of his head.

Killian’s eyes were lingering on her, and it made Emma a little self-conscious.  She realized they’re been looking at each other for longer than strictly necessary.  Emma tried to switch her focus back to Professor McGonagall, but she found she’d already missed part of the lecture.

 “…is the proper way to go about it,” the professor declared, finishing some train that Emma hadn’t heard, “so we’ll begin with children’s stories.”

“Children’s stories?” Emma echoed, disappointment clear in her voice.

“Yes, Miss Swan,” McGonagall said.  “You can’t expect your classmates to understand the intricate themes and archetypes in muggle literature without having the basics, can you?”

Emma frowned.

“No, professor,” she sighed. 

“Well, then, let me assign you each your fairy tale to research,” the older woman said. “I expect you to be experts on the tales when next we meet.  You should find the different versions, the archetypes, the so-called ‘moral of the story,’ and modern adaptations.”

Emma wondered how McGonagall expected them to do modern muggle research in a wizard castle.

The professor drew a short stack of envelopes from her sleeve and handed one to each pair. 

“In the envelope, you will find your assigned story and a list of recommended books,” McGonagall said.  “Please take a few moments to meet with your partner and discuss your planned course of study.  When you’ve come to a decision, you may leave.  Our next meeting will be two weeks from today, in a classroom to be determined.” 

She looked around the room with pursed lips.

“We certainly won’t be meeting in this room again if we can avoid it,” she said.

 With that, the older woman descended from the classroom, leaving the students to themselves. 

Killian plucked the envelope out of Emma’s fingers and tore it open, his eyes darting across the card he found inside.

“Jack and the Beanstalk?” Killian said, forming the words as if they were from another language.  He looked at Emma over the card, raising an eyebrow.  “Care to enlighten me, love?”

Emma frowned for a moment and then stole the card back from Killian.  She looked at the name of the story, written in McGonagall’s flowing handwriting.  There was a short list of references below the title.

 “There was a guy named Jack,” Emma said, meeting Killian’s eyes again, “and a cow, and something about an evil giant with a treasure and a golden goose… Or harp, I think.”

“Sounds like a lovely tale,” he said, dripping sarcasm.

“It wasn’t one of my favorites,” she said, shrugging.  “Fairy tales were never really my thing.”

“Then what is  _your thing_ , love?” he purred, his tongue caught between his teeth as he looked at her under half-lidded eyes.

“Let’s focus on the assignment, Jones,” Emma sighed, rolling her eyes.

“As you say, Swan,” Killian said, sitting up a little straighter.  “How do you suggest we begin this task?”

“Well, we could check the library,” Emma said, looking at the list again, “but I’m guessing they don’t keep a lot of muggle children’s books lying around.  Maybe Hogsmead?”

“Are you asking me out, Swan?”

“You wish,” she retorted.

“Perhaps I do,” he said earnestly, voice low.

Emma pretended she didn’t hear what he’d said. 

“Ruby’s granny runs a muggle bed and breakfast,” she said.  “I’ll ask Ruby if she’ll send us some muggle books.  Are any of your lot muggle-born or half-blood?  They might have a leg up on the purebloods.”

“Jefferson’s pureblood, but he’s done a fair bit of travel,” Killian said, looking thoughtful.  “He might be willing to help.  I’ll ask around the common room tonight.”

“Good,” Emma said, nodding.  “then let’s meet… uh, when are you free?”

Killian scoffed.

“Darling, I’m a sixth year,” he said, “I have far more free time that do you.  When are  _you_  free?”

“Um, I have a free period on Wednesday mornings and Friday afternoons,” she said, going over her schedule in her head.

“My Wednesdays are clear,” he said, nodding.

“Okay,” Emma said.  “Wednesday, then?”

“It’s a date,” Killian said with a mischievous smile.


	4. Wednesday Morning

“Professor McGonagall told me yesterday,” Mary-Margaret was saying to Ruby as Emma sat down to breakfast across from the two girls.

“Told you what?” Emma asked as she scooped eggs and bacon onto her plate.

“Aurora and Phillip dropped the muggle lit class,” Ruby said.

“I’m not surprised,” Emma said.  “You know how new couples are.  Any excuse to be together, right?”

“Absolutely,” a disturbingly familiar lilting voice said, just behind Emma.  Killian Jones stepped over the bench and sat down next to Emma, close enough for their robes to touch.  “Aurora did truly wish to take the class, but she’d rather not partner with anyone other than her beau.”

All of the nearby Gryffindor students were looking in open-mouthed shock at the Hufflepuff boy sitting at their table.  He grinned at them as he lifted a slice of bacon from Emma’s plate and took a bite from it.   

“What… What are you doing?” Emma gritted between clenched teeth.

“Eating breakfast?” Killian said with big, innocent eyes. 

“This is the Gryffindor table,” Mary-Margaret said gently.

“Aye?  That would explain all the crimson and gold,” Killian replied, grinning at Mary-Margaret.  “Did McGonagall pair you with the redhead, then?”

“Yes,” Mary-Margaret replied.  She looked out of her element.  She clearly wanted to be polite, but the situation was making her uncomfortable.

David arrived then, dropping onto the bench next to Mary-Margaret and looping an arm around her.  He kissed her temple and then turned to raise an eyebrow at Killian.

“This is a daring move, Jones, even for you,” David said jovially.

“We can’t all be compliant as  _sheep_ , Dave,” Killian replied, grinning.

“Fly away, Jones,” David said, smirking at some inside joke.

“I haven’t even finished my bacon,” Killian said.

“ _My_  bacon,” Emma grumbled. 

Killian gave her an apologetic look.

“Too right, lass,” he said, inclining his head.  “I should have asked first.  Forgive me?”

He turned the puppy eyes on Emma, and she found herself struck dumb but the cuteness of his expression.  Her breath caught in her chest and she blinked at him repeatedly, her eyelids fluttering.

“Mr. Jones,” Professor McGonagall said, coming to stand behind Mary-Margaret and making everyone jump.  “Have you forgotten the way to your own table?”

“Not at all, Professor, it’s right where I left it,” Killian said, winking at Emma.

Emma coughed to cover her laugh.

“Then what are you doing  _here_?” the professor queried.

Killian finally turned to look at McGonagall, and Emma took a much-needed breath.

“Meeting with my cohort regarding our project for your class, Professor,” Killian replied.

“And this seemed like a good enough reason to break Hogwarts tradition?” McGonagall said.

“Not all traditions deserve upkeep, Professor,” Killian replied with a careful balance of respect and defiance.

The older woman’s eyes widened for a moment, and then she nodded.

“Be that as it may,” she said, “you are causing quite the commotion, young man.  I think it best if you return to your own house’s table or leave the Great Hall.”

“Of course, Professor,” Killian said, dipping his head as he stood up and stepped over the bench.  He turned to look down at Emma.  “Meet me in the library?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma said, her voice a little breathier than she liked.

He grinned at her again before sauntering off.

“Oo-oo-ooh,” Ruby teased, drawing out the sound and grinning at Emma.

“Shut up,” Emma said, throwing a slice of bacon at Ruby. 

* * *

When Emma arrived at the library, Killian had already claimed a spot for them.  He’d found a small table in a quiet corner and covered it in books and parchments.  He was leaning back in his chair as he perused a dusty tome, his feet kicked up onto the corner of the table, ankles crossed. 

He’d left a part of the table clear—for her, she assumed.  If she sat there, she’d have her back to the wall, which she preferred, and he’d be just to her right, on his own edge of the table instead of beside her or across from her.  It was all very thoughtfully done; casual, yet intimate.

He looked up from his book as she approached, giving her a once-over and a playboy grin.  Emma rolled her eyes and nodded her head at him, not wanting to greet him vocally across the room and risk the ire of the librarian.

Killian swung his long legs down, rising to stand as she walked closer.  He drew out the chair for her.

“My lady,” he intoned quietly, eyes twinkling.

Emma rolled her eyes sat in the offered chair.  She let him push it in.  She pulled a few items out of her bag while he sat back down.

“Did you find it?” Emma asked, looking over the books Killian had collected. 

“Aye,” he replied.  “Several versions.  It seems your story can’t decide if Jack is a hero or a villain.”

“It’s not  _my_  story,” Emma mumbled.  “What’re your thoughts on it?”

Killian looked thoughtful for a moment. 

“The first time the lad ascends—in most versions—he does so out of curiosity,” Killian said.  “I have no issue with that.”

“But then he steals from the giant,” Emma said.

“Aye, but the giant was a big git,” Killian countered.  “And Jack and his mother were starving.”

“That doesn’t make the theft right,” Emma protested.

“It makes it understandable,” Killian said.  “In dire situations, one does what one must.”

“But that doesn’t make it  _right_ ,” Emma said, her voice raising a little.

“No, but isn’t stealing from the wicked one of the themes in these so-called fairy tales?” Killian asked.

“Yeah,” Emma said, “but it usually ends up coming back to bite you in the—”

“Shh!” said the librarian, giving Emma a disapproving look.

Killian chuckled quietly, grinning at Emma.

“Anyway,” Emma said after regaining her composure, “whether stealing the first time was okay or not, Jack shouldn’t have gone back to steal again.  That was certainly wrong.”

“With his mother ill and no one to care for her?” Killian asked. 

“That’s not in the story,” Emma protested.

“It is in this version,” he said, tapping one of the books.

“It’s still not right,” Emma insisted.

“But it is understandable,” Killian maintained.

“Are you going to defend the  _third_  trip up the beanstalk?” Emma said dryly, looking at Killian with disbelief.

“Perhaps thrice was a bit much,” Killian said, grinning.  “Especially since Jack already had the goose.”

“ _Perhaps_?” Emma said.

“The world isn’t painted in black and white, Swan,” Killian said with an exasperated sigh.

He looked tired.

“Are you all right, Jones?” she asked.

“Quite,” he said, and she knew he was lying.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” she said.  “I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

He studied her for a moment, appraising.

“Have I told you a lie?” he lilted smoothly. 

“You’re not always honest,” she said.

“Are you?” he queried, his voice very soft. 

She tightened her lips into a line. 

“Shades of gray, Swan,” he murmured.  “I think you and I both know that the state of being ‘all right’ is relative.”

Emma leaned back and thought about that for a moment.

“Okay, I get that,” she said.  “But if there’s someplace you’d rather be—”

“There isn’t,” he said quickly, and she believed him.

Emma chewed on her lip for a minute, watching him.  Finally, she let out a sigh.

“Ruby’s granny sent me another version of the story,” Emma said.

“Oh?”  Killian asked.

“Yeah, but, um, we can’t watch it in the castle,” Emma said, biting her lip again. 

She hadn’t even been sure she was going to tell him about the portable DVD player that she’d received in the post.  Even now, she was sure she was going to regret it.

“Watch?” Killian asked, clearly curious.

“Yeah, it’s a movie?” she said, searching his face to see if he knew the word.

“Oh,” he said, fascinated.  He was looking at her with the abject enthusiasm of a child.

“Ruby’s granny sent a, uh, a movie-player, but it won’t work at Hogwarts,” Emma said.  “There’s too much magic flying around for muggle technology to work properly.”

“How far from the castle would we need to go?” Killian asked.

“I’m not sure,” Emma said.  “My MP3 player works on the grounds, but this thing is a little more complicated, so…”

“Hogsmeade?”  Killian suggested.

“If you want to sit somewhere warm, yeah,” Emma said.  “We can try there.  I’ve never tried using any devices there, but there has to be lest interference than here in the castle.”

“So you wish to take me out for a movie?” Killian asked, eyes dancing.

“It’s not a date, Ki—eep that in mind, Jones,” she covered, hoping he didn’t catch that she almost said his given name.

“If you’d like to buy me flowers,” he teased, “just go ahead, love.”

Emma rolled her eyes.


	5. Movie "Date"

Everything in Hogsmeade was pink.

Emma disliked pink.

She should have realized that the village would be decorated for Valentine’s day.  It was the first weekend in February, so it was really the only chance the shops had to advertise their Valentine’s Day merchandise to Hogswarts students before the holiday. 

There were streamers of paper hearts and bewitched cupids flying across the space between eaves.  Zonko’s had even enchanted their chimney to tint and shape their smoke into pink hearts and arrows.

When Emma had arrived at the village with her roommates, Mary-Margaret had not been able to contain her glee at the decorations and nearness of the holiday.  She started gushing about the plans she and David had made.  Ruby chimed in periodically.  Emma knew she was juggling a couple of suitors.  She wondered how Ruby was going to manage her time on the actual holiday.

Emma parted ways with the two girls at Honeydukes (where the window was full of heart-shaped sweets) and made her way over to the Three Broomsticks.   With all the Valentine’s Day brouhaha, Emma was very glad that she’d agreed to meet Jones at the Three Broomsticks and not at Madam Puddifoot’s as he’d suggested with waggling eyebrows.

This was  _not_  a date.

It was homework.

That was all.

Emma let out a huff of breath that hung in the chilled air. 

One of her American friends had told her that a Pennsylvania groundhog had just recently predicted six more weeks of winter—the story had also been picked up by the Quibbler.  The rodent seemed to be correct.  It was  _cold_.

But Emma and Killian had agreed to meet outside the tavern, and Emma liked to keep her word.  They’d agreed at half-past-ten, but Emma had arrived early—not because she was eager, just because that was the kind of person she was.  Punctual.  Responsible.  It had earned her a little red-and-gold pin in the shape of a P.     

And for her responsibility, Emma had gotten to stand in the freezing cold for the last quarter hour.  To say she was irritated was an understatement.  She fidgeted, shifting her wait and sort of hopping in place to try to keep warm. 

Emma was just about to give up on the Hufflepuff seeker and go inside when she saw him, laughing with Graham—his constant companion—as they loped toward the tavern. 

Killian’s face lit up even brighter when he caught sight of Emma. 

Emma scowled at him, refusing to let his good mood affect her, even though her chest already felt warmer at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” Graham called, waving at Emma as the two boys drew near.

“Morning,” Emma said to politely to the Hufflepuff keeper, then she turned her eyes to Killian.  “You’re late.”

“Good morning to you, too, Swan,” he said jovially.  “How are you on this delightfully brisk morning?”

“Cold,” Emma said.

“That’s easily remedied,” Killian said saucily with a wink.

Emma rolled her eyes and Killian grinned. 

They sort of stood there, looking at each other for a moment, and then Graham cleared his throat, making Emma jump.

“Well, I’m off to Zonko’s,” Graham said, clapping Killian on the shoulder.

“A prefect at the joke shop?” Emma said, raising her eyebrows.

Graham grinned at Emma, a chuckle bubbling up from his chest.

“We have to know what we’re up against, don’t we?” he lilted.  He winked at her, too, but it was a completely different gesture from him than it was from Killian.

“Fair enough,” Emma said, unable to keep from smiling at Graham’s easy charm.  No wonder Ruby was half-smitten.

Killian and Graham thumped each other on the back in a quick man-hug, and then Killian turned back to Emma.  He pulled the door to the Three Broomsticks and gestured for Emma to enter ahead of him.

“Let’s get you in out of the cold, love,” he murmured as she passed.

“Thanks,” she said not quite genuinely.

The heat of the inside of the pub was welcoming after standing outside for so long.  Killian put his hand lightly on Emma’s elbow and led her toward a secluded table, gesturing to the barkeep as he went.  He must have been on good terms with the staff, because two steaming mugs of frothy butterbeer arrived at the table mere seconds after Emma and Killian sat down.

“Thanks, darling,” Killian said, winking at the waitress, who tittered as she wandered off.

“Cool it, Casanova,” Emma muttered.

Killian turned back to Emma, a smirk on his face as he passed her one of the mugs.  Their fingers brushed as Emma eagerly reached for the hot beverage.  His hand was warm.

“Jealous, Swan?” he teased, lifting his mug.

“Hardly,” she shot back.

Killian just grinned at her.

Emma hid behind her mug of butterbeer.  She wrapped her chilled fingers around the warm mug and lifted it slowly to her lips, taking a long sip, sighing as the hot beverage warmed her from the inside. 

She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she opened them a moment later to find Killian watching her over the top of his own mug.  His expression was inscrutable. 

He looked at her like that every once in a while, and Emma didn’t know what to make of it. 

“So,” Killian said after a pregnant moment.  “Where will we watch your film, love?”

“Not in the village,” Emma said, eager to have something innocuous to talk about, “not with this many witches and wizards milling about.  There’s too much magic in the air.  We’ll have to go down by the lake, I think.”

He nodded.

“Best warm up a bit, then,” he said, taking another drink from his mug.

Emma mirrored him, taking a long pull of her butterbeer.  She was feeling warmer already, but her hands were still cold. 

The forecast had said the day would only get colder, so Emma was eager to get the sitting-around-outside portion of it over with. 

“All right,” she said, draining her mug and setting it down hard.  “Let’s go.”

Killian only looked mildly surprised and Emma’s determined expression.  He finished off his drink and tossed some coins on the table.  Emma had been fishing in her pocket for money with her stiff fingers, but she decided to let it be when she saw he’d thrown out enough to cover both of them.

“Thanks,” she said, nodding.

He grinned at her and led the way to the door.

They made their way down to the lake, walking along the little path.  It was deserted, unsurprisingly, thanks to the weather.  Once spring warmed things up, there would be students by the lake every weekend, fishing, skipping stones, or just getting their feet wet. 

Emma and Killian walked almost to the edge of the lake itself, putting as much distance as possible between them and the little village.  Emma gestured toward a wide-trunked tree.  Killian nodded, and the two headed in that direction.

As the base of the tree, Killian pulled an honest-to-goodness picnic blanket out of his rucksack and spread it out on the dead grass.  Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

“I like to be prepared for anything, me,” he said with a wink.

Emma rolled her eyes and sat down on the blanket, pulling the little dvd player out of her bag.  She powered it on, mentally crossing her fingers that it would work, and was happy to see it started up without trouble. 

Emma moved to lean against the tree, gesturing for Killian to join her.  He sat down next to her, his legs kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, his hip pressed against hers.  He flipped the unused portion of the picnic blanket over their legs for extra warmth.

Emma shifted uncomfortably against the rough wood of the tree as she fiddled with the DVD player, feeding it a disc. 

Killian pulled out his wand and produced a second blanket with a flick of his wrist and a muttered word.  He doubled the blanket in half and then slid it behind himself and Emma, cushioning their backrest.  He unfolded the excess, wrapping it around them both.  Emma gave him side-eye, but he was ignoring her, his attention focused entirely on the little screen as Emma used the buttons to navigate the menu screen.

Emma pulled her end of the blanket forward, draping it across herself gladly.  She started the film and repositioned the player, balancing it half on her thigh and half on his so it was between them.  Then she drew her hands back under the blanket, rubbing them together for warmth. 

“Give me your hands,” Killian said quietly, the blanket moving as he held out his hands for hers underneath it.  He didn’t turn to look at her.

If he’d made some quip or leered or anything, she could have blown him off.  But he said the words so simply, so casually, and with such concern that she complied, sliding her hands into his.  He folded her fingers between his deliciously warm ones and began gently rubbing circles along her skin.  She had to fight back the sigh of pleasure as she felt the blood flow returning to her icy fingertips.

Killian kept stroking her hands, even after their skin had come to be the same temperature.  Emma didn’t know if he did it idly or consciously, but it felt nice, so she let it happen. 

Their position was quite intimate, sitting together, obscured by blankets.  They were pressed against each other from thigh to shoulder, and Emma’s right arm was over Killian’s left, her forearm laying along his thigh and his forearm lay across hers.  It was strangely comfortable—almost domestic.  Emma usually tried to distance herself from those types of situations, even with Mary-Margaret, who was undoubtedly her best friend, but she felt strangely comfortable with Jones. 

And they did have a movie to watch.  They couldn’t very well both watch the tiny screen with three feet of space between them.  That would be silly and more awkward than sitting close.  No, their current position was fine.  Even his fingers running slowly up and down the inside of her forearm were—

Wait, when had  _that_  happened?

And what was going on in the film? 

Emma’s mind had wandered off, and now she realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the movie.  She rectified the problem immediately, focusing on the little figures on the screen.

.

When the credits rolled, Killian let out a little hum.  His whole body seemed relaxed, and his fingers were interlaced with hers, but he offered no resistance when Emma pulled her hands out of his to retrieve the DVD and shut down the player.  She ignored the way her hands felt suddenly colder and tucked the electronics away in her bag.

Killian was quiet, and they were still sitting so close, wrapped in the blanket.

“Well,” Emma said, trying to diffuse the situation as she looked at him sideways.  “What did you think?”

She pulled back a little, scooting a centimeter away from him, but staying in the shared cocoon of warmth.

“We should go to a cinema next time,” he quipped, turning to give her a little grin.  He reached over and lazily tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.  “But I did enjoy the seating arrangements.”

Emma huffed.  She hadn’t expected the flirtation, and she felt her cheek go pink.  She could still feel the trail his fingers had left across her cheekbone.

“Wizards don’t go to the cinema,” Emma stammered.

“Then we could break tradition,” he declared.  His voice dropped and his eyes danced.  “That wasn’t a ‘no.’”

“It wasn’t a ‘yes,’ either!” Emma said.

Killian leaned back and grinned at her for a moment before he spoke again. 

“So, do you think we should focus on the differences, then, between the film and the original story?” he asked,

“Uh,” Emma said, surprised that he was changing the subject.  “Yeah.”

Killian nodded and Emma started to pull a parchment and quill from her bag.

“Perhaps we can discuss it over another butterbeer?” Killian asked nonchalantly.

Emma froze, trying to keep the surprise off her face.  She couldn’t believe he’d had to suggest it.  She should have insisted they go someplace warm and public as soon as the DVD had finished.  There was no reason for them to still be sitting alone together under a blanket, far from prying eyes.

She felt her cheeks go pink again and hoped the chill in the air would cover it as she fidgeted with her bag.

“Unless you’d rather stay here, love,” he murmured, leaning in with a wicked smirk.

Emma hoisted her bag, letting the blanket fall away as she swung the heavy container around between Killian and herself.  He leaned back easily to avoid getting hit by the bag.

Emma stood up, immediately missing the warmth of the blankets and the Hufflepuff boy.  He was like a fireplace, warm and pretty to look at, but dangerous if you got too close. 

Emma didn’t want to get burned.

“Let’s go,” she said a little breathlessly.

Killian rose smoothly to his feet and quickly returned the pair of blankets to their proper places.  He chivalrously offered her his elbow, but Emma just stomped off towards the village ahead of him.

She heard him chuckle behind her and he quickly caught up.


	6. Muggle Lit 2

The second session of  _Introduction to Muggle Literature_  was held in the potions classroom down in the dungeons.  This time, the Hufflepuffs arrived before the Gryffindors, and they were already spread out, each gesturing to his partner to come sit by them at their tables.

Emma parted ways with her roommates and wandered across to where Killian was sitting towards the back of the room.

“Swan,” he said, grinning and patting the empty spot beside him. 

“Jones,” she replied.

He hadn’t giver her enough space to set her bag between them on the bench, and Emma reluctantly admitted to herself that it would have been a cowardly move to put it there, anyway.  She slid onto the bench beside him and set her bag on the floor next to her.  She bent over to pull her portion of their report out of her bag.  As she did so, Killian slipped his right arm around her shoulder, brushing her hair back so it didn’t fall in her face as she rummaged in her bag. 

Emma honestly couldn’t decide if he did it to be considerate or to put his arm around her.

Maybe it was both.

Either way, she found her notebook and sat up. 

Killian let his right hand rest on the bench next to her right hip, so his arm almost created a backrest for her.  The closeness was familiar, but didn’t seem to intimate, so she made no comment.

Looking around, it seemed the other Hufflepuff boys were just as invasive of their partners’ personal space as Killian was of hers:  August was idly playing with Belle’s hair (and she knew they weren’t dating), and Graham and Ruby were practically sitting in each other’s laps, they were so close to one another, whispering animatedly and grinning like small children.  Those two weren’t dating either, at least, as far as Emma knew.  And Ruby was affectionate, herself, so, maybe a Ruby and a Hufflepuff would just naturally be snuggly. 

Professor McGonagall arrived then with four students in tow. 

Emma was surprised to see Robin, from her own house, and three Slytherins filing into the classroom and finding themselves seats.  Jefferson surveyed the room with the amused little smirk he always seemed to wear, Regina held her head high and glanced at the other students once, sweeping her eyes over them as if she were some kind of queen, and Ashley was mild and meek as ever as she trailed behind Regina.

McGonagall explained that they would be joining the class, starting with the second assignment and would just watch the first set of presentations.

McGonagall then started calling for partners to come forward.  Each pair of students got up and gave a presentation about their assigned story, and then students and the professor asked questions.  

Once everyone was done, she announced that partners would be reassigned to include the new additions, and no one would be with their previous partner or another student from their own house.

She called out pairs and students shuffled around.  At the end of the assignments, only Jefferson seemed pleased, sitting next to Emma.  Everyone else looks disappointed in their given partner.

Killian and Belle were frowning at each other thoughtfully.  Ruby was eying Robin, who didn’t to mind his assignment, though he kept looking over at Regina, who was scowling from her place next to Mary-Margaret.  Graham and Ashley were exchanging polite pleasantries, while August and Ariel shook hands and nodded at each other.

Another round of paper envelopes was distributed. 

Jefferson handed the packet to Emma, who opened it without fanfare.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” she read, frowning as she lifted her eyes off the paper to look at her partner.  He was grinning at her.

“Have you read it?” he asked.

“No,” she said.  “I’ve seen a couple movie versions, though.  Have you read it?”

“Surprisingly, I have,” he said.  “I even have a copy you can borrow.”

“Oh, great,” she said.  “Thanks.”

“When should we meet?” he said.

“Are you free on Wednesdays?” Emma asked.

“Alas, I am not,” he said with an elaborate frown.

“Friday afternoons?” she queried.

“That I can do,” he said. 

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Emma was sitting in the library, studying.

The chair adjacent to her pulled back, and then Killian Jones dropped into it, laying his crossed arms on the table as he looked at her.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, but he just grinned and sat up straight, lifting the dog-eared copy of  _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_  from the stack of books and papers on the table.

“Wonderland, then?” he said.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “obviously.”

“Did you get a film, this time?”  he asked innocently.

“Two, actually,” she said.

He nodded.

“I heard there’s one for the story assigned to Belle and myself, too,” he said.  “Do you think you could procure it?”

“What’s your story?” Emma asked.

“Beauty and the Beast,” he replied grandiosely, gesturing with one hand as if proclaiming the title across a marquee.

Emma nodded, then she laughed.

“What?” he said, looking self-conscious.

“And your partner is  _Belle_?” she snorted.

“Aye,” he said.  “Why does that amuse you?”

“You’ll understand when you see the movie,” she said with a smirk.

“So, you’ll get it, then?” he asked, looking hopeful.

His eyes were so blue and intent.  Emma had to look away, and she felt the color rising in her cheeks.

How could he do that to her with just a look and a couple of words? 

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat.  “I think I can manage that.”

“Excellent,” he said, smiling as he leaned forward to rest his chin on his fists.  “Thank you, Swan.”

“It’s no problem,” she said, dismissing his gratitude. 

Emma tried to refocus on her potions homework, but his presence was a distraction.  She frowned at the equation on her parchment.  There was something about the amount of varying the amount of monkshood in a potion when using fresh versus dried, and she just couldn’t seem to remember what it was.

“Would you like some help?” Killian said softly.

She looked up to find him still watching her with that open, intent expression.  There was no mockery or conceit in his eyes, just an honest offer of assistance. 

Emma sighed and ran her fingers through her hair as she decided whether to shut him out or accept his offer.  She chewed on her lip for a moment as she searched his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said finally.

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled.

“Well, you’re in luck, then, love,” he said, his grin widening by the seconds.  “It just so happens that I received an Outstanding on my O.W.L. for Potions.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said, grinning back at him.

“Budge over,” he said, pulling his chair around the corner of the table to sit beside her. 

She did so, scooting her chair to make room.

Once he was settled beside Emma, he put his closer hand on the back of her chair, not quite touching her, then he tapped the page of her potions book with one long finger of his other hand. 

“Monkshood,” he said, his voice taking on a hushed, confident tone.  “Do you know its other names?”

He looked at her expectantly but patiently, and she felt her chest tighten for a second.  She tore her eyes away from his and racked her brain.

“Uh, uh, aconitum,” she said, having a little trouble finding the word.

“Aye, that’s one of them,” he said, nodding.  “Tricky thing, that plant.  Behaves very differently fresh and dried…”

Killian spent the next hour helping Emma with her coursework.

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Emma met briefly with Jefferson, and they planned to get together in Hogsmeade to watch the videos she’d procured. 

On Saturday, Emma found herself standing outside the Three Broomsticks again, just as she’d done two weeks before.

It was still cold, but the Valentine’s decorations had been taken down.

 Emma was only mildly surprised when she caught sight of her partner, who was chatting animatedly with Killian Jones as the pair walked toward her.  It seemed Killian had invited himself along to watch the movies.  Emma thought back to their brief conversation about the films on Wednesday to see if she’d said anything to lead him to believe he was invited.  She had gotten the movie he’d ask for, but she hadn’t told him when or where she was meeting Jefferson.  He must have gotten it out of the Slytherin seeker, then.

Emma nodded at Jefferson before raising an eyebrow at the perpetually-disheveled Hufflepuff.

They both grinned at her.

“Good morning, Swan,” Killian said, stepping forward.

“Morning,” Emma said cautiously to both of them.

“Shall we go to our usual spot?” Killian said with a wink at Emma.  He was standing so that Jefferson couldn’t see him face. 

Emma cocked her head to the side.

“Sure,” she said warily.

Killian was acting strangely, and Emma wasn’t quite sure why.

“Lead the way,  _partner_ ,” Jefferson said, stepping up to Emma’s other side and offering her his elbow. 

Emma looked between them incredulously and then rolled her eyes.  With a sigh of exasperation, Emma stomped between the two boys and headed toward the lake.

When they arrived at the tree where Emma and Killian had sat before, Killian laid out a blanket again.  Emma sat down and immediately found herself sandwiched between a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff.  She studiously ignored them while she retrieved the DVD player and clamshell dvd cases from her bag.  When she looked up at the two boys, Jefferson was frowning.

“What?” she said.

“I’ve no interest in cartoons,” Jefferson said. 

“Okay,” Emma said carefully.  “Well, this one’s live-action.”

She held up the case for the 1985 musical Alice in Wonderland television special that her orphanage had played nearly every day while Emma was young.

“Delightful,” Jefferson said with a tight smile.

“It’s also three hours long,” Emma cautioned.

The boys exchanged challenging looks, seeming to be silently daring each other.  It made Emma roll her eyes again.

She popped the DVD into the player and started the film, fast-forwarding through the opening credits until the first scene began with Alice and her sister sitting in their garden.

Since she was in the middle, Emma set the DVD player across her own thighs, near her knees.  When she drew her hands back, she saw both boys move in her periphery, each one looking like he was going to try to claim one of her hands when it was free. 

Emma choked back a huff of frustration and crossed her arms over her chest.  Her movement made Killian grin on her left and Jefferson scowl on her right.

She ignored both of them and watched the film.

* * *

Three hours later, Emma busied herself with removing the DVD from the player and putting it away while the boys on either side of her stretched and undoubtedly made some sort of macho display at each other behind her head.

“Shall we watch the other one?” Killian said when Emma sat back.  He had a nasty little smile on his face that he was aiming at Jefferson.

“I told you I’ve no interest in cartoons,” Jefferson replied shortly.  He turned to Emma.  “We could go somewhere to discuss this movie and work on our presentation for class.”

Both boys were looking at her expectantly.

Emma chewed on her lip for a moment.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she said to Jefferson, making him smile and Killian frown, “but we can do that back at the castle, too.  We can’t watch movies in the castle.”

The boys’ expressions shifted, so that Killian was grinning triumphantly while Jefferson frowned.

“Of course,” Jefferson said diplomatically with a curt nod of his head.  “Then I will see you back at the castle.”

He leaned closer to Emma and scooped up one of her hands, pulling it to his face to brush his lips over her knuckles.

Emma quickly shut her mouth when she realized it had fallen open.

Jefferson stood, nodded to Killian, and spun on his heel, striding off toward the village.

“What was that about?” Emma demanded once Jefferson was out of earshot.

Killian turned his ugly, forced smile on her.

She rolled her eyes.

“Does your device possess enough batteries to watch another film?” he asked, changing the subject and getting the terminology a little wrong.

“No,” she said, “but I brought extra batteries, just in case.”

He grinned, and then pressed his lips together.

“Would we be able to view the second Wonderland film and the one for my project?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“That’s another three hours,” she said, eyes widening a little.

“I have packed lunches,” he replied, looking down. 

He was bashful. 

Emma felt her mouth fall open again.

“Um,” she said, “uh, okay.”

He looked up, all bright eyes and pink cheeks.  His expression was so  _happy_. 

Emma looked away, retrieving the spare batteries she’d packed and the animated Alice in Wonderland disc.  She got the player ready for the second movie while Killian rummaged in his own bag.

He produced a pair of paper-wrapped parcels tied with string, two bags of crisps, and an old-fashioned, ancient-looking flask.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s butterbeer,” he said with a cocky grin.  “The flask is enchanted.  It never runs out.”

He unscrewed the cap and took a long pull before offering the flask to Emma.

She took it from him, surprised at the warmth of it—warmer even than his fingers.  She sniffed the mouth of the bottle and found the sweet aroma of butterscotch.  Tipping the bottle to her lips, Emma found the threading damp from where Killian’s lips had touched it.  It gave her a little thrill that she tried to tamp down.

Hot, frothy butterbeer poured forth from the flask, and Emma gave a little groan of pleasure. 

Closing her eyes, she took a long drink from the flask, finding that it did indeed seem to contain more than it could physically hold.  She drank deeply, letting the hot beverage warm her from the inside.

When she lowered the flask and opened her eyes, she found Killian watching her, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.  His face was flushed again.

“Thank you,” she said, offering the flask back to him.

He nodded, brushing her fingers with his own as he accepted the flask back from her.

He offered her one of the paper-wrapped rectangles and a packet of crisps. 

She took them gratefully and untied the parcel, revealing a fat sandwich sliced along the diagonal.  Separating the halves, she saw the bright yellow filling between the bread.

“Coronation chicken,” Emma said, pleasantly surprised.

It was one of her favorites.

“Were you expecting bologna?” he asked with a little smirk.

Emma snorted at that, lifting half of her sandwich and taking a bite.  She savored the spicy curry flavor.

“Should we start the film?” Killian asked softly as he unwrapped his own sandwich.

“Oh, right,” Emma said, annoyed with herself again for forgetting the real reason they were out together. 

She started the film and scooted closer to Killian, leaning against him and angling the DVD player so he could see it better as they ate their lunch and watched the movie.


	7. Ruby's Dilemma 1

“I told them both ‘yes’!” Ruby exclaimed as she burst into the bedroom she shared with Mary-Margaret and Emma.

“Why would you do that?” Mary-Margaret admonished.

“What?” Emma said, confused, looking back and forth between her roommates.

“Victor and Graham both asked me to the ball,” Ruby admitted, “and I said ‘yes’ to both of them.”

“Why would you do that?” Emma echoed Mary-Margaret.

“I don’t know!” Ruby shouted.  “I couldn’t decide!”

“What are you going to do?” Mary-Margaret asked.

“I don’t know!” Ruby repeated, throwing herself on her bed.  She yelled into her pillow for a moment before sitting back up and pouting at the other two girls.

“Well, you’re going to have to choose,” Emma said, giving Ruby a stern look.  “Don’t give either of them false hope, Ruby.  That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I’m not,” Ruby huffed.  “I really do like both of them.”

“Well, do you like one of them, you know,  _more_?” Mary-Margaret asked.

Ruby sighed.

“I think I might be falling in love with Victor,” Ruby said, “but I feel this, like, primal kinship with Graham.  It’s hard to describe.”

“Primal kinship?” Emma said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know, like you and  _Killian_ ,” Ruby said, sing-song-ing the name.

“Me and—” Emma said, confused.  Then her eyes widened.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  There’s not any primal anything going on between me and Jones!”

“Well, there should be,” Ruby muttered.  “It’s do you both some good.”

“Ruby!” Mary-Margaret admonished.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Ruby said. “You’re already practically Mrs. David Nolan!”

“David is a gentleman, and what he and I share is—” Mary-Margaret started.

“Oh, my god, I  _so_  don’t want to hear this!” Emma interrupted, throwing her hands into the air.  “Let’s get back to Ruby’s problem, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said.  “What am I going to do?”

“You could tell them the truth,” Mary-Margaret said.

“I’m sure that’ll go over real well,” Ruby muttered. 

“You could pretend to be sick?” Emma offered.

“And not go to the ball?” Ruby said, aghast, “no way!”


	8. Muggle Lit 3

“How could anyone defend  _the evil queen_?” Mary Margaret said with wide eyes as she took a drink from her glass.

“Regina is a Slytherin,” Emma replied, setting down her fork.

“Even still, the queen ordered Snow White’s heart cut out and put in a box,” Mary Margaret went on.  “That is  _not okay_.”

Emma was about to reply when someone else joined their conversation.

“I bristle at the thought of a woman losing her heart,” Killian Jones said from right behind Emma. 

Her whole body went stiff at the sound of his voice.

  Killian climbed over the bench, his lips almost brushing Emma’s ear as he continued his statement in a whisper just for her: “unless it’s over me.”

Emma’s mouth fell open, and she turned to stare at him.  He was so close; their faces were just centimeters apart. 

His eyes flicked to her mouth as he licked his lips, then he winked at Emma.  He turned to face the other Gryffindors.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson last time you tried this stunt?” Ruby asked, but her amused grin didn’t match her words.

“I’m afraid not,” Killian said, grinning at Ruby.

“He’s incorrigible,” came a lilting voice from behind Emma. 

She turned to find Graham and August standing nearby.

“We just came from Transfiguration,” Graham explained.

“Professor McGonagall asked us to escort you lovely ladies to class,” Killian purred.

“And why would she do that?” Emma said, finally finding her voice again.

“Last minute change of location,” August explained.

“Seems the first years made a mess of the potions classroom,” Killian explained, his eyes flicking up to meet Emma’s occasionally as he surveyed the contents of their table. 

He picked up Emma’s fork and used it to spear a wedge of roasted potato, which he began munching on.

“So where is class being held?” Mary Margaret asked.

“If we told you, then you wouldn’t need an escort,” Graham said cheekily.

“Exactly,” Emma said, plucking the fork from Killian’s fingers.  He made a noise of protest.  “So tell us where class is going to be, and then go eat your lunch at your table.”

Emma brandished the fork (complete with a chunk of half-eaten potato) at the boys.

Killian leaned forward and captured the end of the fork with his mouth, making Emma’s jaw drop in shock.  He met Emma’s eyes and slowly leaned back, drawing the morsel of food off the utensil.  Keeping his eyes on hers, he rolled the bite of potato within his mouth and then winked at Emma again.

Emma’s face flushed and she had to make herself close her mouth again.

Killian rose from the bench, chewing and nodding to the other Gryffindor girls as he did so. 

“Transfiguration classroom,” Graham said, sounding amused.  “Half an hour.”

“Thanks,” Mary Margaret replied.

The Gryffindors watched the Hufflepuffs retreat to their own table.

“Oh,  _right_ , Emma,” Ruby teased when the boys were out of earshot, “there’s definitely not any primal anything going on there.”

Mary Margaret tittered as Emma glowered at Ruby.

* * *

The Gryffindor girls let Robin know about the classroom change before heading to class.  The Slytherin and Ravenclaw students were already inside, and the Hufflepuffs entered about a minute after the Gryffindors.

Each student went to sit with their partner, so Emma slid onto the bench next to Jefferson. 

Presentations went smoothly—even Regina and Mary Margaret were able to get through theirs unscathed.  Then Professor McGonagall announced that partners would be reshuffled once more.  She let the boys pick again, citing that they were still outnumbered, and so Emma found herself yet again sitting beside the blue-eyed Hufflepuff seeker.

McGonagall had handed each boy the envelope with their next assignment inside.  Killian opened it on his way to replace Jefferson next to Emma. The two boys had exchanged unpleasant looks, Jefferson giving a little huff and muttering something under his breath as he slunk off to choose his own partner.

Emma frowned at Killian, but he was studiously ignoring her, reading the contents of the envelope.

“Well, Swan,” Killian said after a moment, raising an eyebrow at her over the slip of paper, “it seems you and I are going to Neverland.”


	9. Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Quidditch Match

_There!_

Emma saw the glint of gold high in the sky and leaned in, flying faster, her hair streaming behind her as she raced toward the snitch.  She could feel Killian closing in right behind her, just a little to her right.  He was gaining, but she was nearly there.  She reached out with her right hand, her left clutching the handle of her broom.  The snitch was just a hairsbreadth away from her fingertips.

Suddenly, she was jerked backwards.  Emma let out a startled gasp when she felt Killian hook her ankle and yank.  He held her in place for a moment, ignoring the snitch as it hovered nearby and then darted off.  After a moment, he released her and flew around her in a quick circle, ending the circuit in front of her, face to face.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demanded.  She tried to fly around him, but he easily strafed to block her.

“What’s the rush, Swan?” he said, grinning.  

She stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

“What is wrong with you?” she finally hissed.

He sighed elaborately.

“Didn’t you hear the cheering, love?  Someone down there just scored,” he said.  “So you have to ask yourself, ‘who was it?’ because we’re leading the points this season.” 

He leaned toward her and dropped his voice to a murmur:  “Are you after the game or the cup?”

“I’m after the snitch,” she snapped, trying a second time to dart around him.  He blocked her again.

“Very short-sighted, Swan,” he admonished, “you’ve got to think about the long game.”

Far below them, a cheer rose again. 

“There’s another goal,” Killian said, his intent eyes on Emma, “yours or mine?”

Emma did the math in her head.  If both of the goals they’d heard were for Gryffindor and Emma caught the snitch, their houses would tie for the cup.  If either of them had been Hufflepuff, then Killian’s team was still leading the points for the season.  If Emma had caught the snitch before Killian had snagged her leg, she would have won the game, but the cup would have gone to Hufflepuff.

“Why’d you stop me if you knew you’d win the cup?” she asked, frowning at him.

“I just like a fair fight,” he replied, grinning again.

Emma narrowed her eyes.  He was being honest, but something didn’t add up.

“I thought no one could get past Graham?” she said with suspicion.  “No one’s been able to score on him the whole season.  Why wouldn’t you assume those were points for your team?”

Killian grinned wider.

“Maybe your Ruby could distract him once or…  _twice_ ,” he said, cocking his eyebrow mischievously at the last word.

Emma’s mouth dropped open again.

“You’re  _trying_  to throw the game?” she accused.

“Of course not!” he said, brow crinkled, clearly offended.  “Just evening the field, Swan.  Who wants to play a fixed game?”

Emma just shook her head.

“So, what?” she ventured.  “You want us to just sit up here and… do what, exactly?”

“Oh, I have many ideas on how to pass the time, darling,” he purred, drifting closer to her.

Emma rolled her eyes and spotted her golden quarry off to her left.  She watched it in her peripheral vision but kept her focus on the blue-eyed boy in front of her.  She was hoping he hadn’t noticed the snitch yet, since he seemed so intent on her.

“Oh, yeah?” she challenged, leaning toward Killian just a little, taking a deep breath. 

He licked his lips, his eyes flicking down to her mouth.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice a little huskier than usual.

“Too bad I’ve got a game to win,” she murmured seductively. 

Killian looked pricelessly confused for a split second before Emma threw her weight to the side and dropped like a stone.  She swooped up behind him and to her left, zooming toward the golden flicker she’d seen in the distance.  She heard him curse behind her and then he wheeled around to give chase.

He was fast—really fast—but she had a decent head start.  He was gaining and was right beside her by time the snitch was almost within reach. 

Emma swerved into Killian, forcing him to turn or collide with her.  He turned, letting out a muffled oath.

“Good form,” she heard him say as she stretched out her arm toward the fluttering sphere of gold.  She was well within his reach.  She knew he could easily repeat the maneuver he’d done earlier and drag her away from the snitch, but he didn’t.  She somehow knew he wouldn’t. 

She felt a surge of victory as her fingers curled around the snitch.  She wheeled around, grinning, even though the only one who could see her was Killian.  For some reason, he was grinning, too.

“Very good form,” he said warmly.  He extended his right hand to her.  “Good game.”

She took his hand, trying to give it a quick, polite shake, but he gripped hers with strong fingers, his thumb caressing her wrist. 

“You are bloody brilliant,” he said huskily, his smile transforming into something more heated.

“Thanks,” she said a little shakily, withdrawing her hand.

He let go of her and took a breath, not quite a sigh.

“Shall we go see who has won the cup?” he asked, almost wistful.

“Yeah,” she said, her own feelings mixed as well.

“Race you,” he said, winking.

She nodded, and he immediately dropped, allowing his broom (and his body) to fall naturally toward the stadium far below.  He rolled, so that he was facing her and spread his arms, holding his broom out at his side.  He was grinning at her again.

And winning. 

Filled with renewed determination, Emma hunkered down on her broom and dove.

The dive was exhilarating.  Emma was speeding down, rapidly catching up to Killian as he free-fell.  She shot past him, dimly catching his chuckle. 

He must have changed positions quickly, because he was next to her in a heartbeat, properly mounted on his broom, still grinning like a madman.  His hair was whipped back, his robes flapping noisily behind him.  Emma could feel the intense tug against her own hair and clothes as she rocketed towards the earth. 

The stadium was growing larger at an alarming rate, so Emma leaned back and slowed down, not wanting to crash into the field below.  Killian didn’t seem to mind the danger.  He zipped past Emma like a kamikaze, turning his descent at the last possible second.  It made Emma’s stomach turn.  Did he have a death wish or something?

He was laughing again, which made the whole thing even more disturbing.   He landed hard, throwing himself into a forward roll, kicking up grass as he tumbled and bounced across the field.  He came to rest on his back, his robe streaked green and brown, and covered in bits of grass and clumps of turf.  He was breathing hard, but his expression was almost blissful.  His eyes were closed.

Emma hopped off her broom, letting it hit the ground as she stomped over to stand above him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Jones?” she hissed.  Their respective teams had noticed their arrival—how could they not?—but hadn’t come down to meet them yet.  “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Killian almost reluctantly opened his eyes and looked up at her with a heart-breaking expression.  

“No one would miss me, love,” he said so quietly, she wouldn’t have believed he’d actually spoken if she hadn’t seen his lips move.

“You don’t know that,” she whispered once the shock of his words wore off.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and then his eyes refocused behind her.

“Here they come,” he said with a sigh.  He started to climb to his feet.

Emma took his arm and helped haul him upright, brushing bits of grass and dirt from his uniform.  Killian draped his arm around her shoulders, as if he needed help walking.  She reflexively wrapped her arm around his waist, ready to assist if they needed to move.  His expression reverted to his usual cocky grin just in time for the other players to land in a loose circle around them.

“All right, Emma!” Henry cheered when he saw the snitch in her hand.  He was beaming with the eternal enthusiasm of the eleven-year-old he was.  He skipped forward and offered his fist for a celebratory bump.

Emma indulged him and then ruffled the young chaser’s hair. 

“Did you score, kid?” Emma asked.

“Nah,” Henry said, “they were all three Ruby.”

“Three?” Killian said, raising his eyebrows and flicking his eyes between Ruby and Graham.  Ruby looked pleased and Graham was grinning sheepishly.  They were standing surprisingly close to each other.  Killian let out a short chuckle.  “What’s the final score, then?”

“No one’s sure,” David said, stepping forward.  “The last goal might have been after Emma caught the snitch.”

Emma and Killian exchanged a look of confusion. 

“Either way, the cup should be yours,” Killian said seriously to David and Emma.

“Not if the points are tied,” Emma protested.  She still had her arm around Killian’s waist, even though he wasn’t really leaning on her anymore.  His arm was just casually draped around her shoulder.  In fact, he was idly stroking her deltoid with his fingers.  He had all his weight on his right leg, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“If the points are tied, then they should defer to the match record,” Killian said a little gruffly.  “You bested me, Swan.  Gryffindor is undefeated.  The cup should be yours.”

He gave her a tight smile and a quick squeeze, shifting his weight to his left foot.  Emma realized that he didn’t need any help standing at all.  She pulled away from him and skipped a step back, moving to stand with her teammates.  She shot Killian a dirty look, but he just grinned at her, his tongue caught between his teeth.

Madam Hooch flew down to the group and approached Emma.

“Very dramatic entrance, you two,” she said, looking disapprovingly back and forth between Emma and Killian.  “May I have the snitch?  We need to check the timings to determine the points for the cup.”’

Emma handed over the golden sphere.

“Sit tight,” Madam Hooch said.  “This won’t take long.”

Then she flew up and over to the commentator’s booth.

“It was a great season, either way,” David said, clapping Killian on the shoulder.  “There is no one with whom I’d rather share the win.”

“It won’t come to that,” Killian said, frowning.  “You’ve won fairly.  They’d be daft to rule any different.”

The players on both times fidgeted, waiting for the verdict on the score.  Emma watched Killian.  She didn’t understand why he was so upset.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came Archie Hopper’s voice, magically enhanced to carry over the stadium, “we have reviewed the timings, and it seems that the quaffle was in the air when the Gryffindor seeker, Emma Swan, captured the snitch.  The last goal was scored after the game had ended.  So, the final score is one-hundred-seventy to zero!  That brings the total season points for Gryffindor to five-hundred-twenty, the same as Hufflepuff!  We have a tie for the Quidditch Cup!”

There was a huge uproar from the crowds, some cheering and some booing. 

“Accio broom,” Killian snarled, holding out his hand.  His broom shot across the field, nearly tripping Graham and Ruby.  Killian mounted the broom and flew off toward the commentator’s booth. 

Surprised and curious, Emma mounted her own broom and followed the angry Hufflepuff.

When Killian got to the booth, he jumped into the little room, letting his broom fall to the ground below.  He strode purposefully toward Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall.  Emma landed a second after him, and she heard someone behind her.  She looked over her shoulder to see David joining them.

“Gryffindor beat us,” he said gruffly to the two teachers.  “They deserve the cup.”

“Mr. Jones,” Professor McGonagall said, “you know that isn’t how it works.  You are tied for points—”

“No, we’re not,” he said, cutting her off.  “I broke the rules during our match with Slytherin.  We forfeit that game.”

“What are you talking about?” Madam Hooch asked.

“I left the pitch during the third hour of the game,” he said.  “We did not have the requisite number of players for the last two hours.  Therefore, we automatically forfeit.”

Silence fell in the box.

“Do you have any evidence of this truancy, Mr. Jones,” McGonagall finally said, “or is this just some play at gallantry?”

“Emma knows,” he said, jerking his head toward Emma as if he knew she was there, even though he hadn’t looked behind him once.  “I told her at Christmas.”

All eyes except Killian’s turned to Emma.  Killian continued to stare are Professor McGonagall.

“Is this true, Miss Swan?”

“I…  He might have been lying,” Emma hedged.

“I’m telling the truth, Professor,” Killian said.  “Administer a veritaserum if you wish.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr. Jones,” McGonagall said with a sigh.  “But there will be repercussions for your actions.”

“Aye,” Killian said in a dead voice.  He still had his back to Emma, but she could see his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.  His arms were rigid at his sides as he clenched his hands into fists and then splayed his fingers wide, over and over again.  She couldn’t even imagine what his face was like.

Emma took a step forward, but David put a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait,” he said very softly, right next to Emma’s ear.

Professor McGonagall placed the tip of her wand near her throat and spoke in a magically enhanced voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, waiting a second before continuing.  “The previous announcement was unfortunately made in haste.  Based upon further review, it is my privilege to announce that Gryffindor  _is_  the winner of the Quidditch Cup.”

Emma’s eyes were still on Killian’s back.  With the announcement made, his shoulders sagged and his hands finally stilled.  David let go of Emma’s shoulder.  Emma licked her lips and fidgeted a little, unsure what to do.

“Mr. Hopper,” McGonagall said quietly, “how many points did Hufflepuff score in the last two hours of their game against Slytherin?”

Archie flipped through a little notebook.

“Um, looks like, seventy points, Professor,” he chirped.

“Minus seventy points from Hufflepuff,” the older woman said.

Emma watched Killian flinch and hang his head at the words.   Emma grimaced.  She knew it would weigh on Killian that his whole house was punished for his actions.

“And what was the final score of that game, as recorded on the day?” McGonagall asked.

Archie checked his notebook again.

“It was three-hundred-forty to one-hundred-fifty, Professor,” he said.

“Three-hundred-and-forty points for Hufflepuff,” the professor said.

Emma and David both gasped in surprise.  Emma saw Killian’s head snap up to look at the Gryffindor matron in shock. 

“I told you there would be repercussions, young man.  You are a credit to your house,” McGonagall said gently to Killian.  She then looked past him to Emma, “Miss Swan, will you please escort Mr. Jones off the Quidditch pitch?”

Emma nodded to the professor and raised her hand over the edge of the booth.

“Accio Killian’s broom,” she said.  She saw Killian’s back stiffen at her words.  A few seconds later, his broom zipped up over the edge of the booth and into Emma’s hand.

Tucking both brooms under her arm, she approached the Hufflepuff seeker.  He still hadn’t turned around, which made her a little nervous. 

“Come on, Jones,” she said, bumping his shoulder with hers.  “Let’s go.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, but he fell into step next to her as she led the way down the stairs from the commentator’s booth. 

Halfway down the long, winding stairwell, he caught her wrist.

“Emma…” he murmured.

She turned her head and found him finally meeting her gaze.  His expression was haunted and hungry.  She took a breath to steady herself.  She didn’t need this right now, alone in the dimly lit stairwell.

He licked his lips as though getting ready to speak.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” she said, trying to break the tension.

His brow crinkled quizzically.  That was clearly not the reaction he’d expected.

“What, you’d rather lose than tie?” she scolded.  “Or was McGonagall right and you were just trying to impress m—someone?”

His mouth dropped open in shock.  Then his eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he spat.  His brow crinkled and his expression fell.  “Is that all you think of me?”

“Then why?” Emma asked honestly, shaking her head and searching his eyes.  “Why would you do that?”

“I won’t win through trickery,” he declared.  “I made a mistake, and I own that.  It’s not good form to benefit from deceit.”

“You seemed fine with it before today,” Emma countered.

“I didn’t realize how close the points would be in the end,” he said with a sigh.  “I thought Jefferson catching the snitch would offset our lead, but it was still a runaway—” He ran a hand through his hair, forehead crinkling again. “—I made a stupid decision, aye, and I regret it.”

Emma studied him for a moment.

“What about your team?” she asked.  “How are they going to feel having the cup taken from them by their own captain?”

“I’ll make reparations unto them,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably and looking away.  “I think they’ll understand.”

“Yeah?  Well, what about me?” Emma demanded.

“What?” he said, meeting her gaze with wide eyes.

“You  _let_  me win, you jerk,” she admonished.  “You think I want a victory based on your stupidity?  I am very upset with you, Jones.”

His surprised expression was absolutely precious. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.  Grabbing two fistfuls of his robe, she let their brooms clatter to the landing as she hauled him towards her.   She held him there, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his for several seconds.  They stared at each other, both wide-eyed and breathing hard in anticipation. 

She realized he was waiting for her, so she crashed her mouth into his.  He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her back with enthusiasm.  He made a noise, deep in his chest, a sort of cross between a groan and a growl. 

She snaked her arms up around his neck, threading her fingers into his hair.  His arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him, and she sighed into his mouth.  He groaned again, one of his hands sliding up her back to cradle her neck as his lips moved against hers.  He was letting her lead the kiss, but she wasn’t quite sure where she wanted it to go, yet. 

She pulled back to catch her breath, their foreheads still touching.

“I should let you win more often,” he murmured huskily, rubbing her nose with his.

“Shuddup,” she growled, diving in to kiss him again, harder.

She tugged on his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.  He reacted eagerly, his mouth opening at once.  She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and his tongue darted out to meet hers.    She withdrew invitingly, and he followed.  His tongue slipped into her willing mouth to flick against hers, plundering her mouth with dizzying intensity.  The sensation made her lightheaded.  Emma sucked on Killian’s lower lip, making him groan again, louder this time.

Her knees felt weak when she finally pulled back, panting and clinging to him to keep herself upright.  He kept his forehead pressed against hers, their noses touching.

“That was…” he began, his voice thready.

“A onetime thing,” she breathed, extricating herself from his grasp.  She picked up her broom while he stared at her with a dumbstruck expression. 

He was flushed, cheeks pink, his lips dark and swollen from their snogging.  His hair was more tousled than usual, thanks to her fingers, and it stuck up in sexy disarray.  He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving as he watched her with dark, dilated eyes.  He pressed his fingers to his lips, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment as he tried to regain his composure.   

He looked absolutely delicious—dangerously tempting—so she turned her back on him and started tromping clumsily down the stairs, her legs still feeling like jelly.

She thought she heard him say, “We’ll see about that,” before she made it to the lower landing.


	10. Ruby's Bigger Problem

Owls swooped into the great hall, dropping off packages and letters.  Ruby already had her hand out expectantly.  She received a plain, unmarked parcel from her granny every month, and she was clearly expecting it today. 

Mary-Margaret and Emma had teased her mercilessly about the packages for years, but all they’d ever gotten out of the girl was that it was an ‘ancient family recipe’ for ‘monthly troubles.’  Mary-Margaret told Ruby over and over again that if she really did have a cure for PMS, she should share, but Ruby was good at brushing them off with jokes and misdirection.

In the great hall, Ruby didn’t even look when the grapefruit-sized parcel landed on her palm.  But as the owl swooped away, Ruby’s head snapped up.  She hefted the fat paper envelope experimentally and frowned. 

She tore the package open, her breakfast forgotten.

“It’s… It’s empty,” Ruby said, her face going white as she pulled the cracked phial out of its wrappings.  She looked scared, shaken.  Her voice took on an edge of desperation.  She looked between Emma and Mary-Margaret in horror, and then she scowled in determination.  “I… I need to talk to Graham.”

“Wait, what?” Emma said, confused by Ruby’s cycle of emotions. Emma’s brain scurried to connect the dots that would make the mood-shift make sense.  When Emma’s thoughts clicked into line, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline.  “Whoa, no, that’s not a  _birth control_  potion, is it?  Are you and Graham—” 

“It’s not like that!” Ruby hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard Emma’s outburst.

“Then what is it?” Mary-Margaret soothed, looking worried.  “You know we’ll help you, no matter what.”

Ruby frowned at her best friend.

“You can’t help with this, okay?”  Ruby snapped.  “So, just back off.”

Mary-Margaret’s mouth fell open as Ruby scrambled to her feet and marched around to the Hufflepuff table.  Ruby half-dragged Graham away.  He clearly protested at first, but he became willing and compliant after she whispered something in his ear.  He made a surprised face and then he wrapped an arm around her.  They left the great hall together.

Across the Hufflepuff table, Emma saw a blue-eyed blonde boy—Victor Whale—stand up at the Ravenclaw table to watch what was going on.  Emma thought she saw Victor’s adam’s apple bob as he watched Ruby and Graham leave with their arms wrapped around each other.  To say he looked unhappy was an understatement.

Movement at the Hufflepuff table caught Emma’s eye.  Her gaze reflexively shifted, and she found Killian looking at her.  He raised both eyebrows for a second, looked around the room, looked out the door the way Graham and Ruby had gone, looked back at Emma, and then arched one eyebrow in question.  He was so expressive, she could almost hear the message he was conveying:   _What was that?_  

Emma just shrugged in response, shaking her head.   _No idea._

Killian nodded briefly, and then he tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows again, his forehead crinkling as he gave her a serious expression, his puppy-dog eyes searching her face.  _Anything I can do?_

Emma quickly shook her head and then gave him a small, tight smile.   _No.  Thanks._  

 Killian nodded, his eyes lingering on her as he arched an eyebrow.   _Sure?_

Emma frowned for a second, and then she subtly gestured toward Whale with her head and eyes.  Killian glanced over his shoulder and nodded once when he saw the angry and lost-looking Ravenclaw.  When Killian turned back to Emma, his brow was furrowed in thought.  He gave her a tight little nod of acknowledgement, and then he gestured with his own head to her table. 

Emma realized that Mary-Margaret was talking to her, but she hadn’t been listening, intent instead on her silent conversation with Jones.

“…so what are we going to do?” Emma’s dark-haired roommate was saying.

“I ‘don’t know,” Emma said.  “It doesn’t seem like she wants our help.”

“But what if she  _needs_  our help?” Mary-Margaret asked.

“We don’t even know what’s going on,” Emma said, her eyes landing on the discarded wrappings of Ruby’s mail.  There was a dark stain on the paper. 

Emma picked up the envelope and carefully folded it into her potions book.  She wondered if they could reverse-engineer the draught from what had soaked into the paper. 

Emma thought for a second about asking the potions professor about the spilt potion, but decided against it.  Ruby had always been so secretive, and Emma had gotten the impression that the secrecy was important.  She decided to keep professors out of her investigation. 

Unfortunately, neither Emma nor Mary-Margaret was particularly adept at potions. 

Killian Jones, however, had received an O in potions on his O.W.L.s.

“What are you going to do with that?” Mary-Margaret asked as Emma tucked away the stained paper.

“Something stupid,” Emma said with a sigh.    

* * *

Emma waited for Killian outside the Great Hall.  She fidgeted in the corridor as students filtered past on their way to their morning classes.

Emma looked up each time someone exited, scanning faces and tie colors (not that Killian wore his tie more than half the time). 

When Killian finally came through the door, he was chatting with Jefferson, the Slytherin seeker.  Killian’s eyes seemed to find Emma instinctively, and his lips immediately curved up into a smile.  When he gave her a second look, he seemed to take better note of her, and his expression changed to one of concern.  He said something to Jefferson, clapping the younger man on the back before jogging over to Emma.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” he said, eyes searching her face.  “Is this about Lucas?”

Emma nodded.

“I need some help,” Emma admitted.

He didn’t even gloat.

“Anything,” he said, his eyes wide.  “What can I do?”

Emma looked around.

“I don’t want to talk about it here,” she said.

Killian nodded and took her elbow, steering her away from the Great Hall.  They ended up in an empty hallway with small, high-hung windows and strange acoustics.  Killian crowded into Emma’s personal space so that their voices wouldn’t travel through the corridor.  His blue eyes were wide and curious. 

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, his face mere inches from hers.  He was still holding onto her arm.

“I need help with a potion,” Emma murmured.  His nearness was distracting, but she knew where her priorities were.

He cocked an eyebrow.

Emma took a deep breath and explained about Ruby’s monthly delivery and reaction to the spilt potion.  Killian watched her, seeming enrapt by the tale.  His eyes remained serious throughout, and he never let go of her arm.  When Emma told Killian how Ruby’s first instinct was to go to Graham, something clicked behind Killian’s eyes.

“You know what it is,” Emma said, relieved.

“I don’t,” he said honestly, “not for certain, but I have a guess.”

“What do you think it is?” Emma asked, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“I’d rather be sure before saying,” he said.  “You have a sample?”

Emma nodded.

“And you don’t mind skiving off class, Swan?” he asked.

“No,” she said.  “It seems important.”

“It may be,” he mused.  “If I’m right, it may be quite important.”

 “Okay,” Emma said breathily.  “What do we do?”

Killian grinned then.  He leaned in a little, which put their faces extremely close to one another.  His thumb brushed the tender skin of the inside of her elbow. 

Emma heart sped up.

“Now we go climb a beanstalk to steal from the wicked,” he murmured with a devilish grin.

* * *

“Climb a beanstalk” apparently meant “break into the potions supply room.”

“First larceny?” Killian said cheekily, peeking around the corner before meeting her eyes again.  “You never forget your first.”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at the boy, who was pressed against the wall as if he could blend into it.

“You expect me to believe the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain is some notorious thief?” she said with heavy sarcasm.

He just grinned at her in reply.

He was just so  _gleeful_.  It was a little unnerving.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she sighed. 

Not that Emma was a goodie-goodie, or anything.  She’d shoplifted before and pinched other orphan’s sweets in her days back in the foster system.  Since coming to Hogwarts, she’d tried to be better.  But if she was being honest with herself, Emma did feel just a little bit excited about their current activity, although she certainly wasn’t going to let  _him_  know that.

“The supply cupboard is at the end of this hall,” Killian said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, leaning toward Emma.  His eyes were glinting devilishly.  “But it seems that Mrs. Norris has decided to sun herself in this particular corridor.”

“Ugh, who knows how long she’ll be there,” Emma said.  “Should we try to sneak past her?”

“Probably best to stun her,” Killian replied.  “Go right ahead.”

“Why me?”  Emma asked, eyes widening a little.

“Would you really ask me to attack a defenseless cat?” Killian said in a scandalized tone that didn’t match his expression.  “It’s your quest, love.  I’ll distract her so you’re not shooting her while she sleeps if you feel like that’s bad form.”

“I’m just putting her back to sleep,” Emma grumbled, pulling out her wand.

She took aim and let loose the curse.

“ _Stupefy_ ,” she said.

Mrs. Norris stiffened briefly, but otherwise looked as though she was still just napping in her ray of sunshine.  Emma hoped the feline would never even realize someone had happened to her.

They quickly walked past the unconscious cat to the storeroom door. 

“ _Alohomora_ ,” Emma said, pointing her wand at the door.

The lock bounced once but didn’t open.

Emma turned to look at Killian and found him pulling a set of pins and hooks from his pocket.

“ _Lock picks_?” Emma said.  She didn’t know whether she was impressed or appalled.  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Have you got a better idea, love?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he knelt down in front of the door.

“No, I just can’t believe you actually have a set of lock picks,” Emma said.

“Quite useful, they are,” he said, holding one pick in his teeth while he jimmied the lock with a hook and a spring.  “You’d be surprised how many magical locks can be defeated by mundane means.”

“I  _would_  be surprised,” Emma said.  “It seems to me that the magic would, you know, prevent that.”

“And yet…” he said, most of his attention clearly on the task at hand.  “Ah, there we go.”

With a satisfying little click, the door came open.

Killian stood up, grinning.  He tucked his lock picks away and then gestured grandly, sweeping out his arm.

“Everything we need is right in front of us,” he said. 

He was clearly waiting for Emma to enter ahead of him, but Emma hesitated.  Killian cocked his head to the side for a moment and then entered the storeroom in a sort of sideways shuffle, his body still turned toward Emma.

So Killian didn’t see Peeves swoop in and drop a dungbomb behind him, right where he was about to put his foot.

Emma grabbed Killian’s arm and yanked him back into the hall.  It threw them both off balance, and Emma reflexively wrapped her arms around his waist to steady both of them.  Killian wrapped his arms around her after a second.

Emma was almost sure she heard Killian mumble, “It’s about bloody time.”

“There’s a dungbomb—Peeves was just there!” Emma protested, suddenly embarrassed. 

Killian looked over his shoulder without releasing Emma.

“Well, that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me,” he said with a grin, finally letting her go.  He idly reached out and collected a lock of her hair between his fingers and moved it behind her shoulder.  “But next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

He winked at her.

“Let’s find the ingredients and get out of here,” Emma said in exasperation. 

Killian just grinned at her again.

“After you,” she said, gesturing toward the open door.

Killian gave her another once-over, his expression amused, but he didn’t say anything.  With a tiny nod, he turned and entered the storage room, scratching idly behind his ear as he gave the dungbomb a wide berth.

Emma followed him inside, carefully pulling the door most of the way shut behind them.

“ _Lumos_ ,” she said, calling a small ball of white light to the end of her wand. 

Killian was already climbing the shelves, seeming to know exactly where to go.

“You’ve done this before,” Emma accused.

Killian just grinned down at her from the shadowy upper shelves. 

Eventually, Killian had ascended high enough that he had to conjure his own illumination spell.

“ _Lumos maris_ ,” he said quietly.

The tip of his wand burst into a beacon of swirling, pulsing light that bathed the upper level of the room in shades of blue and green.  The light shifted and swelled, making the storage room look as though it was underwater.  Emma could almost feel the boards of the floor beneath her swaying with the effect of the light.  It was an impressive bit of magic. 

“That’s pretty,” Emma said honestly.  “Is the spell your own invention?”

Killian hesitated before answering.

“My brother taught me,” he said in a strange, wistful tone.

Emma made no reply.  Something about the words and Killian’s voice nagged at Emma’s memory, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. 

After a moment of looking down at her as if he was waiting for something, Killian set his wand between his teeth and went about his thievery.

Emma kept a lookout, peeking through the gap between the door and the doorjamb to see if anyone was in the hallway.  She paced nervously back and forth between the door and the nearest shelf.

Killian climbed around the room, sniffing this and tasting that.  He added quite a number of items to his satchel and a few to his pockets.  Emma decided to ignore the latter.

Time seemed to be slipping by awfully fast, or maybe the blue-eyed boy had forgotten that they were in a hurry.  Either way, Emma was getting antsy. 

 “Can we hurry this up?” she hissed impatiently.

Killian startled, knocking a jar of some thick gel off the shelf. 

Emma whipped out her wand, swishing and flicking.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” she said, catching the jar a fraction of a second before it would have shattered.

“Good form,” Killian praised, grinning at her as he climbed down.

Emma floated the jar back up to its proper place.

“Did you get everything?” she asked, impatient to be done with the theft.

“Aye, just about,” he said.  “Though we may have to go out scavenging later.  This herb—” he held up a phial of dried leaves “—will be far more effective fresh.”

Emma nodded, frowning.  She reached for the door, but paused.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Killian silently moved to stand next to her, leaning his ear toward the door as well.  They both extinguished their wands.

“Stunned Mrs. Norris?” Filch said in outrage.  “ _And_  broke into the potions supply room?  Oh, there will be  _punishments_  for that, I say.”

Peeves laughed maniacally.

“Oh, this is bad,” Emma whispered, turning to face her partner in crime.

 Who had disappeared.

“Jones?” Emma said, looking around for the infuriating boy.

“Mrs. Norris!” Filch exclaimed, clearly he’d just found the stunned cat.  “What have those ruffians done to you, my poor girl?”

“ _Jones_?” Emma hissed again, starting to get agitated.

Emma heard a rustling, and then she saw a flash of an arm sticking out of nowhere.  It looked like a curtain was being lifted and Killian was revealed, feet first.  He flicked the material over Emma’s head and then grabber her arm, pulling her into a hunched position.

“We’ll have to crouch,” he whispered right into her ear.  “The pair of us together are too tall for the cloak to cover.”

“You have an  _invisibility cloak_?” Emma hissed at him between clenched teeth. 

“Shh,” he said.

“We are so talking about this later,” she grumbled.

“ _Later_  being the key word, love,” he said, tugging her arm as he shuffled to the side of the door.

He slid his left arm around her and held her right bicep with his right hand so he could guide her as they moved.

“Wait until Filch enters the room, and then run like hell, aye?” he murmured, pulling his face back to look her in the eye.

Emma nodded.

“Nowhere to go, trapped in the cupboard,” Peeves was sing-songing.  His voice dropped to a tone of disgust.  “Probably  _snogging_.”

Killian snorted and Emma felt her cheeks warm up.

“Next time,” Killian murmured.

“Shut up,” Emma hissed back.

  Filch was going on about the horrible punishments awaiting whomever was in the closet as he slowly stalked closer.  He clearly thought he had them cornered. 

Emma held her breath as Filch came right up to the door.

The caretaker paused there in anticipation before throwing the door open. 

“I’ve got you now!” he exclaimed, raising his lantern and stepping inside.

Killian’s grip on Emma tightened and he urged her forward.  Together, they edged around Filch, but Killian purposefully bumped them into the man, knocking him off balance.  Filch fell forward, right onto the dungbomb.

Emma managed to snag the door as they fled, pulling it shut behind them, leaving Filch trapped in the cupboard with the rapidly growing stink.

Peeves was still floating in the corridor, his spectral head cocked to the side as he looked at the storage room door.  A smile spread over his face.

Filch was cursing loudly and thrashing around.  Emma heard breaking glass as she and Killian snuck around the poltergeist and stunned cat.

Once they rounded the corner, Killian picked up their pace, throwing the cloak off of them.  Emma took the cue, breaking into a sprint, trying to put as many hallways as possible between them and the scene of the crime.

Killian kept pace with her easily, and Emma could hear him chuckling to himself.  When she looked over her shoulder at him, he was grinning like a madman.

They ran through empty halls and stairwells, not slowing until there was an entire labyrinth of corridors between them and Filch.

When they finally stopped, they each leaned against an opposite wall, facing each other.  Emma caught Killian’s eye, and he beamed at her.  Emma couldn’t help but smile back, the adrenaline making her giddy.  Neither one of them was able to keep from laughing as they caught their breath.

“I don’t mean to upset you, Emma,” Killian said with a devilish smirk, “but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

Killian grinned at her.

“Where to?” she asked.  “Should we try to find a classroom that’s not in use?”

“Just a mo,” Killian said, pointing with his thumb at the boys’ lavatory.  Emma nodded and decided she could use a pit stop, too.  When she came out of the girls’ bathroom, he was leaning casually against the wall.

“The prefect bathroom’s free,” he said.  “It’s quiet, too.”

Emma blinked, surprised that she hadn’t thought of it.

“It would be free, huh?” she said with a light chuckle, “most kids with access to it are in class right now.”

He grinned at her and gestured with his head, a sort of casual “come along.” 

They walked briskly up to the fifth floor.  Once inside, Emma cast the charm that let people on the other side of the door know that the room was occupied.

Killian had already tipped out the contents of his rucksack, scattering books, crumpled parchments, quills, and other random items over the tiles. 

He quickly arranged the materials for the spell he was casting, lining ingredients up neatly. 

“You’ve got a talent for transfiguring, haven’t you?” he asked over his shoulder as he honed a little silver knife.  “Could you make a shallow dish, like a casserole?”

Emma raised an eyebrow at his backhanded compliment.  Or maybe his evidence of stalking.  She wasn’t entirely sure.  Whichever way, she complied with his request, taking a bit of broken tile from the floor and changing it into a wide, shallow dish.

“Ah, perfect,” he said, nodding and taking the vessel from her.  He filled the bottom of it with oil and then began adding other ingredients, stirring periodically. 

Eventually, he conscripted Emma to stir while he mixed in reagents and made the incantation.  The contents of the dish cycled through several colors before ending up a milky white.

“What is this spell, exactly?” Emma asked, watching Killian with interest as he pulverized something crystalline with a mortar and pestle.

“It was originally designed for cooks,” he said.  “You cast it upon a dish and it separates out the ingredients, letting you suss out the chef’s secrets.  But, it works just as well on potions.”

He poured the fine powder from his mortar into the dish.

“Now, I’ll add your sample…”

Emma handed him the stained parchment.

Killian gently set the paper scrap down in the center of the dish.  The liquid seeped into the parchment and began dissolving it, bubbling vigorously.

“How long will it take?” Emma asked.

“A few minutes,” he said idly, then he slowly raised his eyebrow.  “However will we pass the time?”

He stuck his tongue between his teeth and grinned at her, but she ignored him.

“How about you explain what you think Ruby’s potion is?” she asked.

He frowned.

“I’d really rather not…” he said, clearly trying to evade the subject.

“Why?” she asked, frowning at his sudden change in mood.

He was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips.

“Perhaps instead I could restate the facts for you and see if you draw the same conclusion?” he offered.

“Okay…” she said.

“Lucas receives a potion once a month, correct?” he said.

“Yeah,” Emma replied.

“And what happens every month?” he said expectantly.

Emma raised an eyebrow at him, but he just waited for her to make a reply.

“We’re  _girls_ , Jones,” she said finally.

Killian’s eyes widened briefly, and then he blinked several times.  She thought he might have actually started to blush a little.

“Oh!” he said in a huff of breath.  Then he chuckled.  “What a clever misdirection!”

“What?” Emma said, confused.

“What  _else_  occurs monthly, Swan?” he said.  “What occurs  _tonight_?”

Emma racked her brain. 

“Um… The full moon?” Emma guessed.

He nodded once and looked at her expectantly.

Emma’s brow furrowed as she tried to figure out why Ruby would need a potion to deal with the full moon.  The only people who had to worry about the full moon were— 

“No!”  Emma gasped, putting her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

Killian gave her a tight smile.

“I would… I would  _know_  if my roommate was a… ah… I can’t even say it!” Emma exclaimed.

“Would you know?” he asked gently.

Emma chewed on her lip for a moment.

“Well, what about Graham?” Emma said.  “Why would she go to him?  Is he a werewolf, too?”

The word sounded ridiculous said out loud.

“No,” Killian said, “but his father was.”

“What?” Emma gasped.

“Well, it’s not really my story to tell, love,” Killian said, “but one could say that Graham was raised by wolves.”

Things started clicking together for Emma.

“That’s what she meant by ‘primal kinship’!” Emma exclaimed.

“Beg pardon?”

“Ruby was talking about the boys she likes the other day,” Emma babbled, “and she said that she and Graham had a—”

Emma cut off suddenly when she looked at Killian.  His eyes were intent on hers, and Emma suddenly remembered what Ruby had said next:   _You know, like you and Killian._

Emma bit her lip, trying to fight the blush rising in her cheeks.  She did  _not_  have a  _primal kinship_ with the Hufflepuff seeker.  Sure, they got along okay (when he wasn’t being infuriating), and he was clearly willing to help her out when she needed it— _and he’s hot_ , added a little voice in the back of her head that she tried to squash—but that didn’t mean that they were  _soul mates_  or anything.

 Killian was watching her intently, and she almost believed he could read the thoughts she was thinking.  He looked amused, but he made no comment at first.  He just slowly raised an eyebrow.

“So, you lovely lasses were discussing the lads you fancy?” he said.

A grin crept over his face and his eyes roved down to her lips.

“No,” Emma said a little breathlessly, “ _Ruby_  was telling us about the boys  _she_  likes.”

“And you didn’t add your own preference to the debate?” he murmured, leaning in, his eyelids dipping a little.  He stuck his tongue into his cheek.

“I told her about a guy I can’t stand,” she sassed back.

“Is that so?” he drawled.  “And who might that be?”

“Oh, I think you know,” she taunted.

“So, when discussing  _attraction_  with your mates, your first thought was of me?” he teased, touching his tongue to his upper teeth as he grinned at her.

“Whatever, Ruby brought you up,” she bristled.

“Oh?” Killian said with false modesty.  “Does she fancy me, too?”

“She most certainly does not!” Emma exclaimed.  “She just said that you and I—”

Emma froze in mid sentence, feeling the color rise again in her cheeks.  This time it quickly shifted from embarrassment to anger.

“Oh, you think you’re so sneaky, don’t you?” she accused.

“I can be, rather,” he said cheekily.  “I did just steal a copious amount of valuable reagents from the potions master.”

“With _my_  help!” she protested.

“Aye,” he said, “we make a good team.  We could be pirates, you and I.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emma scoffed, though something about his words made her feel warm.  “Is the spell done, yet?”

They both glanced over at the dish, where the bubbling concoction had transformed into several neat piles of ingredients, like spots of paint on an artist’s palette.  The largest pile was some kind of pulverized plant matter. 

Killian pinched a bit of the plant pulp and sniffed it, nodding.

“As I suspected,” he said, not sounding thrilled.  “Wolfsbane.”

He met her eyes with a sympathetic grimace.  Emma frowned.

“Okay,” she sighed.  “Now what?”

“Well, I nicked most of the supplies for a wolfsbane potion while we were in the cupboard, just in case,” he said.  “But as I said before, fresh wolfsbane would be far superior.”

“Do you know where we can get some?” Emma asked.

“As it happens,” he said softly.  He sounded almost reluctant, “I do.”

“Great,” Emma said.  “Let’s go.”

“Perhaps I should go alone,” he said a little too quickly.

“Don’t be weird, Jones,” Emma said.  “We’ll do it together.”

Emma saw several emotions flicker across Killian’s face at her words.  Finally, he nodded with a sort of grim determination.

“All right,” he said.  “Let’s go.”


	11. Wolfsbane

“I’ve been here before,” Emma mumbled, looking around the clearing. 

Killian stiffened at her words, his shoulders rising sharply.  His back was to her, but his tension was obvious.

Emma frowned at his back for a moment before looking around again.  Yes, she’d definitely been in the clearing before.  Things had changed.  The shrubs were larger and the fallen log had more moss on it, now.  But it was certainly a place she’d been.  She racked her brain to find the memory. 

Killian glanced at Emma over his shoulder, but she only saw him out of her periphery, her eyes focused on a distant tree as she thought.  He stepped over the log in the middle of the clearing and put his hand up as if to steady himself or pat something.  He made the motion idly, unconsciously, his hand seeming to move of its own accord. 

And Emma remembered.

“It was you,” she breathed.  A revelation, not an accusation.

  His back tensed up again.  He seemed to be waiting.

“It was, wasn’t it?” she asked, her certainty wavering.

“What was me?” he said not-quite-innocently enough.  He turned to look at her, his expression a careful mask that didn’t quite cover the wariness in his eyes. 

His attempt at denial was the perfect confirmation.

“Thank you,” she said seriously, holding his gaze.

He looked away immediately, brow crumpling, lips tightening into a line.

She took a step toward him, drawing his eye for a second before he flicked his gaze away again.

“Really, thank you,” she said.  She dropped her voice to a whisper.  “And… And I’m sorry.”

She watched as he swallowed.  His lips pursed, jaw clenching; he seemed to be cycling through a complex series of emotions.  When he looked up again, he had his features completely under control.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re saying, love,” he said, giving her an ugly little smile that was clearly meant to shut her up.

Emma just rolled her eyes.

“Is this the plant?” she said, gesturing to a small clump of stalks covered in purple flowers.

“Aye,” he said.  He seemed glad that she’d changed the subject.  “We’ll have to dig them up.  The potion requires leaves, flowers, and root.”

Emma nodded.

Killian pulled a little spade out of his satchel and squatted down near the plants.  Emma knelt down opposite him and began working on the same stand of plants from the other side.

“How much do we need?” she asked.

“A fair bit,” he said idly.  “Let’s take the whole clump to be safe.”

Emma nodded again and got back to work carefully teasing the wolfbane’s roots out of the dirt.  She watched Killian out of the corner of her eye, but he seemed intent on his work.  After several minutes, his head tilted suddenly to the side, and he swatted at the air near his head.

“Someone likes you,” Emma teased.

Killian went completely still, all color draining from his face.

“You can see them,” he said in a hollow tone, his expression ghastly.

“No,” she said quickly.

He closed his eyes and visibly sagged with relief.

“What do they look like?” she asked tentatively.

“I hope you never know,” he said gravely, opening his eyes to meet hers.

They held each other’s eyes for a heavy moment, and Emma felt her pulse speeding up.  The tension was too thick, and Emma felt like her chest was too tight for her lungs.  She was grateful when Killian’s head suddenly shifted to the side and his hair slicked up over his ear, pushed but some invisible creature. 

“Ugh!” Killian exclaimed with a burst of nervous laughter.  He broke eye contact with Emma, turning to put both his hands on the invisible creature that had just licked him.

He stroked what she assumed must be the creature’s face.  His expression warmed as he leaned against the thestral.

“Can I touch it?” Emma asked, curious.

“I believe so,” Killian said, his voice a little shaky.

Emma reached out blindly, encountering nothing.

Killian chuckled.

“Come here,” he said, rising nimbly to his feet and offering her his hand.

She took it, letting him pull her up.  He tugged her toward him, so she stepped around the wolfsbane.  Killian gently turned Emma, so that her back was to his front, and he slid his hands down both of her arms, loosely hooking each of her wrists.  His chest lightly touched her back as he leaned his face over her shoulder and guided her hands.

“This is a young one,” he murmured into her ear.  “Be very still.”

He gently moved her right hand forward and down, rotating her wrist so her palm was up. 

For a long moment, nothing happened.  Then, suddenly, Emma felt something slide along her palm.  Emma jerked back reflexively, but Killian held her firm.  All she ended up doing was pressing her backside against his front.

Killian let out a startled puff of hot breath against her neck at Emma’s sudden movement and his hands tightened briefly on her wrists. 

“Still,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

Emma self-consciously shifted her center of gravity away from him, but he followed her, stepping against her again.  He let go of her left wrist, reaching forward to stroke the invisible creature.  Emma felt pressure on her right palm again, and then Killian retook her left wrist, moving her hand forward to set her fingers against the side of the thestral. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but the leathery skin under her palm was not it.  The thestral felt like skin and bones. 

Entranced, Emma let Killian slide her hand along the creature, but the visual image of her hand floating through the air was disconcerting.  Trembling, Emma closed her eyes.

Blind, it was easier to deal with the sensations.  Her mind’s eye painted the shape of the thestral as Killian guided her hand.  A shoulder, and then a shaggy mane and strong neck came to life in her mind.  He’s said the creature was young, and as he slid her hands along the thestral’s ear, she began to picture a foal. 

The animal nipped and licked at the fingers of Emma’s right hand while Killian dragged her left palm over its head and then down its back.

She gasped when her fingers found the unexpected lump where the creature’s wings began.  Emma startled, pressing backward reflexively again, and Killian released her right wrist, his arm slipping protectively around her waist as he held her tight.  His chest was pressed firmly to her back, and she could feel his breath puff raggedly against the side of her neck. 

He seemed to be breathing just as hard as she was, but she couldn’t think about that, shoved it out of her mind as she focused on the creature he was ‘showing’ her.

Guided by his hand, her fingers slid along the bat-like wings, which twitched and stretched under her touch. 

“What color is it?” she whispered, letting her head rest against him.

“I think you know,” he murmured huskily, his lips actually brushing her ear as he spoke.

She drew a shaky breath before speaking.

“Black,” she whispered, not really a question.

“Aye,” he murmured, and she felt him press his nose into her hair.  He inhaled deeply. 

He was trembling as much as she was.

Neither of Emma’s hands was touching the thestral anymore.  It seemed to have tired of her exploration and wandered off while she spoke to Killian. 

Emma let her right arm slowly fall, and she surprised herself when her hand instinctively landed on top of Killian’s where it rested on her left hip.  He hummed against her neck in response.

Emma wondered briefly how they must look, his arms wrapped around her, her head thrown back on his shoulder.  Emma couldn’t deny there was chemistry between them.  No wonder Ruby had made the assumptions she had. 

The thought of Ruby put things into perspective for her, and she knew she needed to get things back under control before the situation got out of hand and she did something she might regret.

“We…” she stammered breathlessly, “we need to get the plant.  For Ruby.”

“Aye,” he murmured again, running the tip of his nose along the skin behind her ear.

Emma took a deep breath and opened her eyes.  The sunlight in the (seemingly) empty clearing helped clear her head.  She took a deliberate step forward, away from Killian’s embrace, and he let her go, his hands dragging along her arm and belly as she moved without offering any resistance. 

She took another deep breath before turning around, looking down, unable to meet his eyes.  She dropped to her knees and resumed digging out the clump of wolfsbane, working vigorously.  About a minute later, he knelt down opposite her and helped extricate the plants from the ground.

They labored silently, the only sounds in the clearing the scrape of their spades and the occasional ghostly whinny of a thestral.

* * *

The walk back to the castle from the clearing was awkward.  Emma and Killian barely spoke, both preoccupied by their thoughts. 

When they reached the grassy hill where they had stopped when she was eleven, Emma paused again.  She turned to look at him, appraising and appreciative.  He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” she said, repeating the words she’d said years before.

He nodded once, his expression blank.  He was clearly still trying to pretend it hadn’t been him.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” she said quietly.  “I know it can’t be easy to talk about, but—”

“Then let’s not, shall we?”  he said gruffly, striding off toward the castle.

Emma stared after him for a moment before sprinting to catch up.

Killian’s anger seemed disproportionate to their situation.  Emma understood having pent-up feelings about family and loss, but he’d never snapped at her before.

When they entered the castle, Killian headed straight for the nearest lavatory.  When he came out, his expression was less severe, but still not as friendly as usual.

“Back upstairs,” he said, nodding at her before heading down the hall, briskly leading the way back to the prefects’ bathroom.

As before, once inside, Killian got straight to work while Emma dealt with the door.

He conjured a little camp stove and set up his cauldron, lining up his ingredients.  He worked quickly and efficiently, crushing, mincing, measuring, and stirring everything with only the occasional glance at his advanced potions book.

Thirty minutes later, when he leaned back from the simmering pot, he seemed more relaxed.

“How much time does the potion need?” Emma asked quietly.

“As long as we can give it,” he said evenly, glancing at her briefly.  “Ideally it should steep for at least a day, but we haven’t got the time.  I’ve doubled the dose of wolfsbane.  The freshness should increase the potency.” 

“It won’t hurt her?” Emma asked, chewing her lip.  “Wolfsbane is poisonous, isn’t it?”

Killian finally met her eyes.  He searched her face, his expression becoming empathic.

“No,” he said gently.  “Wolfsbane is poisonous to humans, but it works differently on weres.  It will just repress her more  _primal_  nature.”

His lips quirked up for a second and Emma let out a brief, nervous chuckle.

“You’re sure?” she asked, her eyes intent on his.

He held her gaze, letting her see she had his full attention and his honesty.

“Aye, Emma,” he said.  “I’m certain.”

Emma let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.  She slumped back against the wall, sagging as though her bones had all turned to water.  Her anxiety wasn’t gone, but a large chunk of it had evaporated, and that somehow made her feel more tired.

“And now we wait?” she asked, brow still crinkled.

“And now we wait,” he replied, moving to sit beside her where she leaned against the cool tile wall.

He didn’t try to sneak his arm around her.  He didn’t make some innuendo.  He just sat next to her, their shoulders touching as he leaned his head back against the mosaic tiles.  It felt… right.  It felt good to have him next to her; a solid, warm presence just to her left.  Patient, steady, calm, and sure. 

And something she didn’t have time to think about. 

Emma felt her stomach growl, and she realized it was after lunch. 

She didn’t know how Killian’s schedule of classes lined up, but it meant something to Emma that he’d dropped everything and followed her when she’d asked for help.  Whatever plans he’d had today had been tossed out the window because of her.

“I’m sorry I ruined your whole day,” Emma said quietly.

Killian let out a little hrmph and straightened up, turning to face her, sitting cross-legged on the tiles.

“Don’t say that,” he protested softly.

She looked up at him.  His forehead was crinkled.

“I’m sure you had plans today, and—” Emma started.

“Emma,” he said gently but firmly, cutting her off.  “You must know by now how I feel about you.”

He paused and watched her, but she just bit her lip and made no reply.

“Do you think there’s anywhere I’d rather be?” he asked, his blue eyes drawing her in.

She felt her cheeks go pink at that.  She wrenched her gaze from his, looking up, down, anywhere but back at his face.

“I just…” Emma said, unsure how to form the words.  She felt her eyes find his again, as if her gaze was pulled there by some unseen force.  “I’m not—I can’t…”

Killian half-shrugged, rolling his shoulder and tilting his head briefly.

“We all have our demons,” he murmured with a painful edge to his voice.

He looked away, his face tightening.

Emma let out a little sigh.

Killian turned to face her again, studying her for a long moment.  Then he scooted back to his place next to her, lifting his arm and raising an eyebrow. 

He was literally offering her a shoulder to lean on.

Emma chuffed and slid closer to him, letting him drape his arm behind her as she leaned her head back against him.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

He nodded.

They sat in companionable silence for a while.  Emma closed her eyes and relaxed, listening to his breathing and feeling his heartbeat. 

“I won’t give up, Emma,” Killian murmured after a while.  “I’m in this for the long haul.”

Emma took a breath, holding it as she chewed on the words.  It didn’t take her long to make her decision.

“Good,” she whispered.

He chuffed beside her.

Emma let her eyes close and just listened to his heart and breathing, letting everything else fade away.

* * *

Emma woke up disorientated. 

She evaluated her surroundings slowly, trying to give her sleep-addled brain time to restart her mental cogs. 

Her head was pillowed on Killian’s lap. She’d apparently slid down his side in sleep.  His right arm was still draped over her, his right hand resting on her shoulder, fingers tracing idle, soothing patterns.

She opened her eyes to find the angle of the sun had shifted dramatically. 

A book was floating in the air in front of Killian.  As she watched, he made a little flicking motion with his left hand.  The page turned in response.  He was levitating it and directing the pages silently and wandlessly—either of which would be impressive on its own, but he did both as if it were nothing.

She had to give the Hufflepuff credit.  She wouldn’t want to face him in a duel.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured teasingly.

Emma snorted and sat up, wiping her face to check for drool.  Thankfully, there was none.  That would have been too embarrassing for words.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“About an hour before sunset,” he said, his eyes roving over her appraisingly. 

Emma felt her cheeks go pink and she quickly stood (with just the slightest wobble) and crossed to the vanity, finger-combing her hair and checking for sleep-creases on her face.  Her hair was a mess and she did in fact have bright red lines on her left cheek where it had been pressed against Killian’s robe.

She massaged her face, trying to get the blood flowing to fade the marks.

She looked back at him to find him watching her with a goofy grin.

“Shut up,” she said.

He grinned wider.

She let out an exasperated sigh.

“I should probably go start looking for Ruby,” Emma said.

The barest hint of emotion—wait, was that  _guilt_?—flickered across Killian’s face.

“What?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he said, feigning innocence.

“What was that look?” she demanded.  “What do you know?”

He looked guilty again, sheepish and almost adorable.

“ _What_?” she exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips.

He sighed in resignation.

“Neither Graham nor Miss Lucas are in the castle,” he said as though revealing some dark secret.

“Uh huh,” she said sarcastically.  “And you know this because…?”

His eyes never left hers, but he scooped up an old, folded piece of parchment from the tiles beside him.  He frowned briefly and then held the parchment up in between them.

“What’s this supposed to be?” she asked, eyes flicking to the blank paper.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he intoned, his eyes still on hers. 

Emma raised an eyebrow.  Her eyes flicked to the parchment, and she was surprised to see writing starting to appear across it.

“The… Marauder’s Map?” she read, looking at Killian again.  “What is it?”

He offered it to her, and she walked back to him, dropping down to sit beside him as she took it.  She opened the folded document to reveal what looked like blueprints or building schematics. 

Then she noticed the names.

Emma flipped through the layers of the map, her mouth falling open.

“This is…” she murmured, scanning the fifth floor.  

There, inside the lines that made the prefects’ bathroom, Emma saw two names, so close they almost overlapped.   _Emma Swan_  and  _Killian Jones_.  If she squinted, they looked like one name:  _Emma Jones._

She dropped the map.

“Mischief managed,” Killian said, and the parchment instantly reverted to looking plain.

“Where did you get that?” Emma hissed.

“Came with the cloak,” Killian said, shrugging.

“How long have you had it?” she asked.

“A while,” he hedged.

Emma frowned at him, thinking about how the two items could be used for all kinds of wicked deeds.  She surprised herself and being glad that it was Killian who possessed the items instead of someone else.

“Regardless,” he said, clearly trying to distract her, “neither Ruby nor Graham are on the grounds.  So, we’ll have to leave the castle to find them.  Do you have any idea where they might go?”

Emma blinked, realigning her train of thought.  Her frown deepened as she tried to imagine where Ruby would go in a situation like this.  She’d want someplace secluded, where she could be away from the people that she might hurt.

Emma felt the pieces click into place in her mind.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, looking at him, eyes wide.  “I think so.”

“Where?” he asked with interest.

“The Shrieking Shack.”

“Why do you believe that she’d go there?” he asked, full of curiosity, without a hint of doubt.

His trust was refreshing and unexpected.

“I… I remember something Ruby said once,” Emma said, voice a little shaky with her surprise.  “She said it looked a good place to go when you needed space.  Needed to be alone.”

She shrugged and fidgeted a moment before continuing.

“It’s just a hunch,” she said.

“I think it’s brilliant,” he said.  “Let me bottle this up and we may be able to catch her before moonrise.”

Emma nodded, scrambling to her feet and out of Killian’s way.


	12. Back to the Shrieking Shack

“Is that a light?” Emma said, straining to look across the field to the crooked house. 

“Possibly,” Killian said, coming to stand next to her. 

“What’s the best way over there, do you think?” Emma asked.  “I’d rather not try to hike through the overgrown field without being seen, even with an invisibility cloak.”

Emma couldn’t even imagine trying to move quickly with both of them huddled under the draped fabric.  It’d take years to get to the shack.

“According to the map, there are several secret passages out of Hogwarts,” Killian said.  “One of them starts beneath the whomping willow and heads in that direction.  We could try it.  It should at least get us closer.”

“The map doesn’t say where it comes out?” Emma asked.

“The tunnel goes off the edge of the map,” Killian said.

“Well, I guess it’s better than tromping through those weeds,” Emma said.  “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and we need to try to be quick.”

“As you say,” Killian replied, nodding.

They huddled together under Killian’s invisibility cloak and made their way across the grass to the willow.  It seemed almost peaceful when it wasn’t flailing.

“There!” Emma said quietly.  “There’s an opening between the roots, see?”

“Aye, that must be our tunnel,” Killian said.

They carefully snuck between the dangling branches of the tree, moving within its dangerous reach.  When they got to the hole, Killian fanned out the cloak as they crouched down. 

Emma looked up at him before she slid into the tunnel.  She was nervous, and it must have shown on her face, because he gave her an encouraging nod.  She smiled back at him weakly before shimmying down into the dark tunnel. 

“ _Lumos_ ,” she said once she was through the narrow entrance, conjuring a small white light. 

She thought she’d said it quietly enough, but the word seemed to echo in the tunnel and it was immediately followed by a solid  _thud_  and a muffled curse from Killian.  His feet appeared kicking wildly as he tried to squirm through the narrow passage. 

Emma grabbed at his ankles, trying to pull him down.  She got kicked in the shoulder before she got a grip on him, but he seemed to realize quickly what her intention was.  Emma leaned back and pulled hard on the Hufflepuff boy.  She heard him shout again in pain, his body jerking with the impact of one of the willow’s branches.

Emma wrapped her arms around Killian’s legs, pressing her cheek against his thigh and yanked as hard as she could.  He came through, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs and robes and invisible cloak.  They both let out matching  _oomph_ s, the air knocked out of them when they landed.

After a second, Emma scrambled to disentangle them, flailing a little as she tried to get someone’s cloak off her face.

Killian let out a barely muffled cry of pain.

Emma immediately went still.

“Jones?” she said, her voice full of concern.

“I’m all right,” he said in a tense, pained voice.  “I’m fairly certain that bloody tree busted my arm.”

“Oh,” Emma breathed.  “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll live,” he said, clearly trying for bravado, but not quite hitting the mark.

“We should get up,” Emma said after another pause.

“Aye,” he said with a grunt.  He shifted above her, and Emma tried to remain still as he ungracefully climbed over her in the dark. 

“Do you have your wand?” Emma asked.  “My light went out when I dropped mine.  I don’t know where it landed.”

Emma hoped she hadn’t landed on the wand and broken it.

“Aye,” he said.  He made some more muffled sounds of discomfort and then called forth his pretty ocean-light spell.

Emma looked him over quickly before searching for her wand.

He had a lump and a smear of blood on his temple and he was holding his left forearm gingerly.  Both of the bones in his forearm had obviously been broken.  He looked like he was in quite a bit of pain. 

Emma found her wand quickly and crossed the low tunnel to crouch beside Killian.  She was suddenly very glad that most Quidditch players knew at least a couple healing and first aid spells.

“ _Episkey_ ,” Emma said, pointing her land at Killian’s temple.

Killian shivered as the wound on his head healed, and then he shuddered when the first motion made him move his arm.

“What a pity,” he grunted, eyes screwed shut in pain, but still trying to act tough.  “I had so hoped you’d kiss it better, Swan.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said, amused.  “And here I thought you didn’t believe in True Love’s Kiss.”

Killian’s eyes popped open at the exact second Emma realized what she’d said.

“Not that I—I mean, I didn’t—uh…” Emma stammered, eyes wide.

Killian favored her with a half smile.

“It’s all right, love,” he said.  “No explanations are required.  Thought it would be lovely if you could bind my arm?”

Emma licked her lips before pointing her wand at his injured limb.

“I’ve never cast that one before,” she said, hesitating.  “I’ve only ever seen David do it.”

A rogue bludger had hit Henry during practice.  It hadn’t been pretty.

“I trust you,” Killian said, his eyes open and honesty under his pain-crumpled brow.

Emma nodded, taking a breath to center herself before she cast the bone-setting spell.

“ _Ferula_ ,” she said. 

Emma was glad to see the splint and bandage she’d conjured snake around Killian’s arm.  His face tightened and his jaw clenched as the spell did its job, but he visibly sagged in relief when it was finished.

“Thank you,” he said, letting out a long huff of breath.

Emma chewed on her lip as she watched him catch his breath.  She was worried about him, but she also knew that time was running out for Ruby.

“Did the potion survive?” she asked.

Killian opened his eyes again and then plucked the bottle from inside his robes.  He offered it to Emma.

“Can you make it?’ she asked.

“I’m sure as bloody hell not going back up that way,” he said, gesturing toward the hole through which they’d come.

Emma nodded.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

They scrambled through the tunnel as quickly as they could with the low ceiling and Killian injured.  To his credit, he never complained.  His breath was labored, but he just clenched his teeth and continued forward. 

Eventually, the tunnel turned sharply and then came to an end, coming out right into a dusty, abandoned room.  Emma took inventory quickly while Killian leaned against the wall, stretching his back as he caught his breath.  If Emma had to guess, she’d bet they were in the lower level of the Shrieking Shack.  The room was full of broken furniture and dust.  The windows had been boarded up, but streaks of orange light were still peeking through the gaps in the wooden slats, casting the sunset on the ceiling. 

A floorboard squeaked above.

Emma met Killian’s eyes for a second.

He nodded.

“Ruby?” Emma called, moving as quickly as she could through the mess.  She scrambled to the stairs, Killian close behind her.  “Ruby, is that you?”

“Emma?” Ruby’s incredulous voice wafted down from above.  Then the disbelief was replaced with panic.  “Oh, god, Emma, you have to get out of here!  It isn’t safe!”

“No, it’s okay,” Emma said, mounting the stairs.  “We’ve got your potion.”

“We?” Ruby and a male voice—presumably Graham’s—said at the same time.

“Can’t let you have all the fun, mate,” Killian called. 

Graham poked his head into the stairwell.

“You stupid git,” Graham said with a torn expression—equal parts affection and frustration.  He was looking past Emma at Killian. 

Graham offered Emma his hand and pulled her up over the last step, which was rotted half-through.

Emma darted past Graham to enter the room where she could hear Ruby pacing.

She offered the potion vial to the dark-haired girl, who looked like she was about to cry. 

As the last rays of orange light faded, Ruby drank the potion in one gulp.  Ruby grimaced at the taste, wiping her mouth before handing the phial back to Emma. 

Graham and Killian entered the room.  Killian stopped beside Emma and Graham went around to stand between Killian and Ruby, forming a loose circle.

“Thanks,” Ruby said, eyes flicking between Emma and the boys, “really, but you still need to get out of here.”

“But we got you the potion in time, right?” Emma said.

“Maybe?” Ruby said, eyes wide with concern. “I’ve never taken it so late, before.  But I’m still gonna…  _change_ , even if it did work.  You don’t need to see that.”

“I don’t care about that,” Emma said.  “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Ruby fidgeted, clearly touched, but still nervous.

“You’re sweet, Emms,” she said.  “Now go away?  I don’t want to worry about you.”

Ruby suddenly went pale.

“The moon is rising,” she said in a tight voice.  She met Emma’s eyes.  “Emma, please,  _go_.”

Emma felt Killian’s hand on her shoulder. 

“Perhaps we should do as she asks, love,” he said gently.

Emma let Killian pull her back onto the landing, but she didn’t descend.  She wasn’t going to just leave Ruby without making sure that she was okay.  With a stroke of brilliance, she realized she could stay without being detected.  Emma pulled Killian’s cloak out from where she’d watched him tuck it in his satchel.  She threw it over her herself (and Killian, because he was so close) and slipped back into the room where Ruby and Graham were. 

Killian cursed under his breath and crouched down to stay with Emma as she moved.

Emma crept into the corner of the room and sank down to the floor.  Killian crouched down next to her.

“It’s all right,” Graham was saying, rubbing Ruby’s arms as the girl trembled.  “It’s just us here, now.  Perhaps the potion will even work.  We can play fetch.”

Ruby chuckled, but her body jerked mid-laugh.  It looked like she was in pain.

“Let go,” Graham said to her.  “I’ll change, too.”

“I can still smell them,” Ruby complained.

Emma felt a pang of guilt.

“They’re not daft enough to stay,” he said.  “I’m here.  You’ll be fine.”

Ruby nodded, taking a step back from Graham and starting to shudder.

Graham pointed his wand at himself and then his body shifted.  Suddenly, there was a handsome silver wolf with mismatched eyes where the boy had been.  The wolf’s muzzle twitched, nostrils flaring, and then the animal’s head snapped to the side, his strange eyes looking right at Emma and Killian under the invisibility cloak.  He made what could only be described as a frustrated noise.

Emma realized she hadn’t thought this plan through.  She just had to hope that the potion had worked.

Ruby cried out in pain, hunching forward as her body convulsed.  The transformation didn’t take long, but it looked unpleasant.  When it was done, the pretty brunette had turned into a sleek wolf with dark fur and bright eyes.  The wolf shook out her fur, stretching as if she had just woken up.

Wolf Ruby trotted over to Wolf Graham and sniffed him.  As she did so, her ear twitched toward Emma and Killian.  Her head started to turn toward them, but Graham made a low growl.  Ruby chuffed at him.  Graham nosed her neck, trying to turn her around, but Ruby just snapped at him and turned fully toward the invisible duo.

Emma felt her heart speed up.  Killian’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

Graham pounced on Ruby, trying to distract her.  He barked, nosing and nipping at her.  It looked like he was trying to get her to play, but Ruby wasn’t having any of it.  She continued to approach Emma and Killian slowly, body lowering, hackles rising, nostrils flaring as she stalked them.

Graham growled again, trying to force Ruby back this time, but Ruby was bigger and more feral.  She made Graham seem like a puppy.  Ruby ignored him and continued to slowly inch toward Emma and Killian.

Emma sat, transfixed, mouth open in horror as the wolf approached.  She knew that Ruby could smell them and probably hear their heartbeats for all she knew.   _Stupid, stupid_  she chided herself.  There was no way for them to get up quietly enough, and Ruby was already blocking the exit.

Killian shifted next to Emma, trying to put himself between the wolf and the girl.

When Ruby was just a yard away from Emma and Killian, Graham retreated to the other end of the room.  He awkwardly reared up on his back legs and transformed back into a human boy.  He kicked the nearest pile of rubble and clapped his hands.

“Oy, Ruby,” he called.

The she-wolf stopped, head turning to see what the noise was. 

“That’s right,” he said, bouncing on his toes.  “I smell good, too.  And you can see me.”

Ruby started to turn, still down on her haunches.

Emma and Killian kept still.  Emma was watching the scene unfold in horror.

“When she leaps this way, you run, got it?” Graham said, keeping his eyes on Ruby.  He resumed kicking things and otherwise making a ruckus—a distraction, Emma realized.

And he had captured Ruby’s full attention then. 

Emma started to try to quietly rise to her feet.  Killian tugged upward on her, rising fluidly from his crouch.

Graham was holding his wand in twitching, fidgeting fingers.  He clearly wanted to wait until the last moment to change shape, but he was nervous. 

Suddenly, Graham’s grip slipped and he fumbled the wand.  It bounced from one hand to the other as he tried to regain it as it fell. 

When he looked down, Ruby pounced.

Emma was on her feet with her wand out before Graham’s wand hit the floor, but it was already too late.  Ruby had gone for his throat.

Graham got his arm mostly in the way before Ruby’s teeth sank into his flesh.  The crunching sound as she snapped the bones in his forearm was sickening.  Ruby’s long snout reached past his arm, and bright blood blossomed on Graham’s face and neck.  Ruby’s paw landed on Graham’s chest, and his shirt ripped, too, and he was thrown to the floor.   

It happened so fast.

Graham’s wand bounced and rolled over to touch Emma’s shoe.  It was a pretty wand, made of willow wood, eleven inches long and clearly possessing a good degree of flexibility.

Emma stared dumbly at the wand for a moment.

Ruby backed off as quickly as she’d attacked.  The dark-haired wolf retreated into a corner, tail between her legs.  She was whimpering.   She looked at Emma and then back at Graham, making a high, tortured whine.

Emma went to Graham. 

There was so much blood.

Graham’s arm was completely mangled, oozing blood at an alarming rate.  His tattered shirt was going dark from the blood seeping out of the claw marks on his chest. 

Killian knelt down on Graham’s other side.  He tied something around Graham’s arm, trying to make a tourniquet. 

Graham reached up, grabbing Emma’s robes.

“Tell her,” Graham said weakly but insistently to Emma.  He pulled himself half into her lap, his eyes intent on hers.  “Tell her it’s all right.”

 “Just rest, mate,” Killian said gently, patting Graham’s shoulder. 

“ _You’ll_ tell her,” Emma said, fighting back tears, trying to smile reassuringly.

“No,” Graham said, his voice fading.  “No, I won’t…  But… thank you.”

Graham’s face relaxed for a moment, eyes looking calm.  The creases of his forehead smoothed out.  He let out a breath as if a great weight had suddenly lifted off him. 

And then he was gone.

“No,” Emma whispered, her voice cracking, tears spilling down her cheeks.  “No no no no no.”

She clutched Graham’s body to her, rocking and crying.

Behind them, Ruby let out a mournful howl.

Killian set his hand lightly on Graham’s forehead and gently swept his fingers down, closing Graham’s eyes.  He leaned over his fallen friend and murmured some words that Emma couldn’t make out.  Her ears were ringing and Ruby was still howling.

With heavy, solemn movements, Killian retrieved Graham’s wand and tucked it into the boy’s hand, wrapping his fingers around it. He held his friend’s hand for a moment, and then he looked up and reached for Emma’s arm.

Emma jerked away from Killian’s questing fingers.

Killian snatched his hand back as though he’d been burned.  He turned away, shoulders hunching.

After a minute, Ruby slunk over to them, as docile as a lamb.  Clearly the potion had worked, it had just taken too long for the effect to start.  Ruby curled up at Graham’s feet, covering her blood-stained snout with her paws and making strange whining and huffing sounds.  Emma guessed it was Ruby crying.

“This is my fault,” Emma whispered.

Killian and Ruby both jerked their heads up to look at her.  Killian’s eyes were reddened by unshed tears.  His cheeks looked ghostly white in the pale streaks of moonlight that filtered through the boards on the east-facing windows.

“No,” he said quietly, his voice a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Yes it is,” Emma insisted.  “Of course it is.  This is my fault.”

She saw the muscle of Killian’s jaw twitch.

“Emma,” he started, but she cut him off.

“If it wasn’t for me, Graham would still be be—”

“Stop,” Killian said.  His voice was quiet but insistent.  “Just stop.”

“You know it’s true,” she said.

Killian stared into Emma’s eyes, and she saw the flicker of anger there.

Good.

Emma could deal with anger.  Anger was easier than grief.

Ruby whined at her, but she ignored the she-wolf.

“It’s your fault, too,” Emma accused Killian.

Pain flashed across his face, and he recoiled as if she’d slapped him.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he said in a low growl.  “Do you think I won’t carry that for the rest of my days—add it to the list?”

“Well, you should,” Emma went on, knowing she was going too far, but not caring.  The anger was cathartic.  She wanted to hit something.  “If you hadn’t wasted my time with the thestrals, then we would have gotten here in time.”

Killian’s mouth fell open.  Emotions passed behind his eyes:  shock, betrayal, anguish.  He looked down at Graham and back at Emma, some realization hitting him that made him stare at her in horror.  He swallowed hard and then looked away.

He was silent for a moment, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.  It looked like he was trying to fight the pain with anger, too.

When he raised his head, his expression was dark.

“If you hadn’t asked for my help, neither of us would be here, Swan,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Ruby growled at Killian.

Emma felt a spike of anger at the words, but the fire was quickly quenched by an icy rush of shame.

He was right.

If Emma hadn’t insisted on meddling, Ruby and Graham would be having some bizarre little wolf sleepover.   And Graham would be alive.  Safe and alive.

Emma felt all emotion drain from her.  She was empty, boneless, a dried-up husk.  She swayed, the weight of her guilt combining with the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.  She was suddenly dizzy, and the room was going black around the edges.

“Swan,” she heard Killian say, his voice full of fear instead of anger.

He caught her, thought she hadn’t seen him move.  He shifted behind her so that she was leaning against his chest, his legs splayed on either side of her.  Graham’s body was still lying in her lap.

“Don’t touch me,” she protested weakly, her words slurring.  Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

He twitched at her words, but he didn’t let her go.  He held her lightly, his hands resting on her arms, one of them occasionally shifting to her forehead or cheek, like he was checking for fever or something.

Emma refused to faint.  She was not some damsel in a story.  She denied the spots of black swimming in her vision.  She fought the way her ears seemed to be filling with rushing water. 

Emma Swan couldn’t faint. 

That was ridi…cu _…lo…_


	13. Truth, Lies, and Dreams

When Emma regained consciousness, she knew exactly where she was.  She didn’t get the guilty pleasure of imagining what had happened was some horrid dream. 

Moonlight streamed in the east-facing windows, but the angle was different, the light shining down on them instead of up at the ceiling.

An hour or two had passed, then.

Emma was leaning against something warm and shaggy that was rising and falling steadily. 

_Ruby_ , she realized dimly; her friend, the werewolf.  She shoved that thought away for later. 

 Emma raised her head and found Killian.  The Hufflepuff boy had wrapped Graham in the sheet from the bed.  The fabric was lovingly tucked around Graham’s legs and torso, but his face and shoulders were still visible.  Graham’s hands (which had been carefully cleaned) were folded across his chest, fingers wrapped around his willow wand.  Killian was hunched over his fallen friend, murmuring softly, his splinted arm tucked against his chest.

Killian looked up at Emma’s movement, and all Emma could see was his anguish-filled, red-rimmed eyes.  His expression opened when he saw her.

“Swan!  You’re awake,” he said with clear relief.  “Neither of us was willing to leave until you regained consciousness.”

Beneath her shoulders, Ruby chuffed and then let out a low whine.

“You should have called someone,” Emma complained, sitting up.  Her head was still a little foggy.  She steadied herself with one arm.  “You should have gotten someone from Hogsmead to call the Headmaster.”

Killian and Ruby exchanged a look.

“We had to work out our story,” Killian said carefully when he met Emma’s eyes again. 

“You had to..?”

Emma trailed off when she realized what he meant.

If they told the truth, Ruby would be in a world of trouble.  Emma had to assume that no one else knew she was a werewolf, and if they did, they’d want her out of Hogwarts, even if she hadn’t…  Even before that night’s events. 

The three of them would have to lie about what happened to keep Ruby safe.  They’d have to lie about how Graham died.

Emma’s stomach turned.  She retched, but there was nothing on her belly to expel.  She put her head in her hands for a moment, sucking in deep breaths.  The air smelled like blood.

“It’s the only way,” Killian said after a moment.  He sounded just as awful as Emma felt.  Emma tried to take consolation in that, but it didn’t help.

Killian looked away from Emma, taking the edge of the sheet and carefully covering Graham’s face and chest.  He tucked the lose edge underneath the boy, completing the shroud.

Emma hated that it looked like Killian had done it before.  Her stomach turned again, but she fought the wave of nausea. 

 “What’s the story,” Emma snapped, reaching desperately for anger, trying to use it as a shield from the pain. 

She looked up at him, fixing him with a level glare.

“We…” he began, his voice hollow.  His eyes became glassy as he told the fictitious tale.  “Graham and I dared you lasses to come to the shack.  We were being stupid; we thought maybe it’d be good place for a snog.”

Emma frowned in irritation at the last part.

Killian’s face crumpled at her reaction.

“It’s believable,” he said defensively.  His voice dropped.  “Better than the truth.”

Emma’s brow crinkled and she nodded.

“Go on,” she said softly, having trouble keeping up her armor of rage.

“We came out here, had a look about, and then the wolf attacked,” he said in his lifeless voice.  “Graham… He was the hero.”

“And the wolf?”  Emma asked.

“Some feral beast that had got itself shut up in here somehow.  Ruby hit it with a stunner and it fled,” he said.  “Leapt out that window and ran off.”

He gestured to a window on the side of the room facing away from Hogsmead.  The boards had been pried off while Emma was asleep and the glass had long ago broken out.

“Won’t they look for tracks?” Emma said, playing devil’s advocate.

Ruby chuffed behind her.  Emma turned to look.

“Aye, and tracks they will find,” Killian said.  He nodded at Ruby. 

The dark-furred wolf rose, stretching, and then crossed the room to leap through the window. 

Emma clambered woozily to her feet and stumbled across the suddenly spinning room.  Killian was beside her in a second, steadying her elbow as she looked out the window.

Ruby ran across the field toward the forest.  When she got to the tree line, she let out a blood-curdling howl that made Emma shiver.

Emma clutched the window sill to steady herself.

Killian wrapped his good arm around her, pulling her against him.

“Don’t do that,” she muttered, flinching.  Honestly, she needed the support, but she thought her anger could protect her. 

Killian stiffened at her rebuke.

“I’m just trying to help,” he murmured with a sigh.  He sounded exhausted.  “I haven’t the strength to quarrel with you just now, Emma…  Just let me help.   _Please_.”

Emma tried desperately to hold on to her anger, but it was slipping away, leaving bone-numbing sadness.  She sniffled, unable to stop herself.

Killian gently turned Emma to face him, and she buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching fistfuls of his robes.  His arms encircled her, and he held her lightly, stroking her back with the fingers of his uninjured hand.

She wanted to be mad at him.  She really did.  She wanted to push him away and stomp off on her own.  She wanted to tell him that she didn’t need him, that she was better off alone.

She wanted to lie.

Instead, she clung to Killian like she was lost at sea and he was a life raft. 

And he clung right back.

She cried, leaning heavily on Killian, and she felt his chest shake with his shuddering breaths and choked sobs.  Eventually, they sank to the ground, neither having the energy to remain standing. 

They wept together, but neither let the other see them cry. 

Emma kept her face pressed into Killian’s chest, and Killian mourned as stoically as he was able.  When Emma finally pulled back, he quickly scrubbed his face with his good hand before Emma could see the evidence of his grief.

Neither could really pretend they hadn’t been crying, but Emma and Killian understood each other.  They wouldn’t exploit the other’s moment of weakness when it would confirm their own.

“I didn’t… I didn’t even know him that well,” Emma said after her tears had dried.

“You would have liked him,” Killian mused wistfully. 

They were sitting against the wall near the window, Emma tucked under Killian’s arm, her head pillowed on his chest.  She was still clutching a fistful of his robes and he kept stroking her hair.  It felt like they were both making sure the other was real. 

“Tell me about him?” Emma asked, raising her head a little.

Killian drew a shaky breath before nodding.  Emma settled back down against his chest.

“He was my friend,” Killian said heartbreakingly. 

Emma waited, wondering if he would go on.  A few minutes later, he did.

“He was my roommate,” Killian said, his voice tender.  “He was sorted right before me, and he gave me the biggest grin when I joined him at the table.”

He gave a tiny huff of amusement.

“We’d met on the train, and we both wanted Gryffindor,” Killian said, the words coming faster.  “He was the first in his family to go to wizard school.  He’s from an old clan in Ireland; very set in their ways.  He told me how excited he was when his letter arrived.”

Killian drew a deep breath.

“He loved animals,” he continued.  “Aced Care of Magical Creatures without a thought—it came natural to him.  Herbology, too.  Good with plants, him.  I used to chaff him he could live in the woods if he wanted.”

Emma felt Killian’s chest rumble at a subdued laugh.

“We were well-matched for roommates,” he said.  “We didn’t get in each other’s way; gave plenty of space when needed.”

“Who else do you room with?” Emma asked, tilting her head up.

“It’s just him and me,” he replied, looking down at Emma.  “We’re two-a-room in Hufflepuff.  But you’re fours, I know, in Gryffindor…”

He trailed off, his expression becoming forlorn. 

Emma had discovered from David that Killian’s brother had been a Gryffindor, and she imagined that’s where Killian’s thoughts had gone.

“We’re three, in my room, since our year is so small,” Emma said.   

“Oh?” he said, his attention pulled back to her.  He blinked and focused his attention on Emma. 

“Me and Ruby and Mary-Margaret,” Emma said. 

He chewed on that for a moment.

“Good,” he said with a little nod.  “I’m glad Lucas will be in good hands.”

They were quiet for a while.

“What about you?”  Emma asked, voice small.

“Me?” he asked, lifting his head from its resting place on the wall to look down at her properly.

“Will they… change your room situation?” Emma said, trying to be delicate about the subject.

“They may try,” he said, “but I won’t have it.”

“But you’ll be alone!” Emma protested.

“That’s not something new to me, love,” he murmured.

Emma pulled back far enough to study his face. 

He looked resigned.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

She bit her lip, wishing she could pull the words back.

She thought he’d make some quip, but he was just quiet, watching her.  His eyes crinkled around the edges, his eyebrows dancing as emotions flickered behind his intense blue gaze.

“I’m not,” he whispered finally, gently cupping the back of her head and tugging her against his chest again.

She allowed it, resting her cheek against his robes as she blushed.

He wrapped his arms around her and wriggled a little, like he was trying to get comfortable.  Then he yawned.  His yawn elicited one from Emma as well.

“Sleep, love,” he said gently, his voice rumbling in his chest.

He stroked her hair soothingly.

“You should sleep, too,” she murmured.

He hummed, and she could almost hear his smile.

“Not tonight, lass,” he said, his voice taking on an edge of determination.  “I have a vigil to keep.”

Emma couldn’t help but nod at that.  It felt right.

“Then I’ll stay up, too,” she said, starting to sit up.

He held her lightly against him. 

“Please,” he said so quietly, she wouldn’t have heard if her ear wasn’t against his chest.  She stilled at the word and he continued in a louder voice.  “You’re a comfort to me here, Emma.  Just… Just rest.”

Emma felt her heart stutter.  Her chest seemed too tight. 

She’d never felt loved before she started at Hogwarts, and even there, her first try at romance had ended poorly:  Buoyed by her quick connection with Mary-Margaret, Emma had let herself fall headlong into a relationship with Neal Cassidy during her third year. 

And she’d been happy.  Things had seemed good.  Neal was charming and affectionate. 

Then he’d disappeared.

She’d heard rumors that he’d transferred to Durmstrang because of something to do with his father.

But he never said goodbye. 

Emma had waited for a letter—for something,  _anything_  to explain the sudden departure, but none ever came.

In a world of magic, he couldn’t be bothered to even dispatch an owl.

 So Emma knew it had to be like it was with her birth parents, like the foster families:  She hadn’t mattered, so she wasn’t worth a goodbye. 

She wondered if she’d only imagined that Neal had ever cared for her at all.

And now there was Killian, almost the opposite of Neal:  Where Neal had been full of declarations of love and stolen kisses, Killian just stood by her.  Killian flirted, they bantered, he teased and infuriated her, but when it came down to the hard times—when Emma needed someone—he was there; unquestioningly, unwaveringly  _present_. 

It wasn’t about words.  It wasn’t about declarations.  It wasn’t about stolen kisses (though Emma imagined there would be more of those, and she was okay with that). 

It was…  _more_.

And that was terrifying.

Killian seemed to sense her shift in mood.  He read her so easily—like she was an open book.

“Shh,” he soothed, stroking her hair.  “Just rest, love.”

She let out a sigh and he hummed again.

“I’m here,” he said, confirming everything she’d just been thinking.

The words made Emma wistful, but his voice and soft petting soothed her. 

With another sigh, she let sleep claim her, leaving her worries and the repercussions of her actions for the morning.

* * *

Emma woke up to the sound of hushed voices. 

She lifted her head lazily.  She was lying on the narrow bed in a room of the shrieking shack.  A semi-translucent cloak was spread out beneath her and a yellow-lined robe was laid over her as a blanket. 

 Her location surprised her.  Emma was usually a light sleeper, and Killian had a broken arm.  She could only assume he’d moved her with magic.  He’d also stripped off her robe, which she knew was soaked with blood. 

Sitting up, she found Killian cross-legged on the foot on the bed, his back to her.  The sleeve of him right arm had been pushed up to his elbow.  His shirttails hung out of the back of his sleeveless sweater.  His collar was popped up, showing her that he’d completely removed his tie.  Dimly, she thought he might have used it to bind Graham’s arm the night before. 

Across from Killian, Ruby was perched on the edge of an ornate chest of drawers.  She was leaning forward, bloodshot eyes intent on Killian until Emma sat up.

Killian was already turning, feeling the bed shift with Emma’s movement. 

His eyes were even worse than Ruby’s.  They were red-rimmed and puffy with dark circles beneath them.  His face was streaked with dirt and dried blood, and his hair was an awful mess. 

Killian looked Emma over with concern, and then the corners of his mouth twitched up for a second.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured with a wistful smile.

Emma raised an eyebrow at him and his grin widened fractionally.  His smile quickly changed to something sadder, and his eyes twitched, darting to the side and back to hers.  Emma knew he was telling her to check in with Ruby (like she needed to be told).   She frowned slightly and gave him the tiniest nod, trying to convey as much as she could without using words.

“Ruby?” Emma said, dragging her eyes off Killian’s face to look at her friend.

“Hey, Ems,” Ruby said, her voice sounding intensely sad.

Emma stood up from the bed and approached Ruby, shuffling around Graham’s sheet-wrapped body.

Ruby hopped down from her perch and the two girls embraced.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, fighting back fresh tears.

The brunette hiccupped, squeezing her blonde friend tighter.

“Shut up, Emma,” Ruby said softly, her voice shaking.

“Ruby, I—” Emma started.

“I can’t, Emma,” Ruby said in a strained tone.  “Not yet, okay?”

Ruby pulled back to give Emma a pained expression.  Her eyes darted back and forth between Emma’s, begging her to understand.

“Yeah, okay,” Emma said.  “Of course.”

The girls stepped away from each other awkwardly.

“I’m gonna go get someone from the village,” Ruby said.

Emma nodded, taking another step back to clear the path to the door.

 “I will stay with Graham,” Killian said, clearly exhausted.

Emma looked back and forth between them for a moment.  She felt torn.

“I’ll stay with Killian,” Emma said with a little nod.

Killian inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as he looked at her with mixed emotions.  She realized she’d said his given name instead of ‘Jones’.  It was the second time she’d done it, though she still hadn’t said it  _to him_ , yet.

Ruby nodded back at Emma, biting her lip.  She looked relieved but worried. 

“We stayed here overnight because we were scared the wolf would attack if we tried to leave,” the brunette said in a rush.  “That’s the story.”

Emma nodded, hating the need for deception.

“Okay,” she said.

Ruby swallowed and then lifted her chin, setting her shoulders.  She left the room, and Emma listened as she descended the stairs and exited the house by the door.  She waited until there had been a full minute of silence before turning back to face the Hufflepuff boy.

He looked like hell.

His hair was greasy from his dirty hands being run through it; his cheeks and forehead were smudged with dirt and dried blood.  The dark rings under his eyes made him look older, as did the stubble on his face.  Emma had to admit that she rather liked the stubble across his face.  It had red in it, which amused her, since his hair and brows were so dark.  He looked miserable, but he wore it well.  Emma felt a little awful for being attracted to him when he was clearly in so much pain.

“You should sleep,” Emma said gently.

“Not yet,” he said vehemently, his voice slightly slurred from exhaustion.

“Killian,” she said in exasperation.

His breath hitched again, and he met her eyes.  She’d said it.  She’d said it to him.  He looked absolutely wrecked, eyes wide and searching, filled with hope and pain. 

“Emma,” he breathed.  He started to reach for her, but stopped, blinking in confusion.

Emma sighed and climbed back onto the bed.  She scooted back against the headboard and crossed her legs.

“C’mere,” she said, beckoning.

Killian hesitated for a moment.

“I’ll watch over both of you,” Emma said softly.

Killian stared at her, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.  He looked like a lost puppy; a deer in the headlights.  God, he must be positively knackered if he couldn’t even respond to her asking him to join her on a bed.  Emma could almost laugh at him if she wasn’t so concerned.

And he still wasn’t moving.

So she tried reverse psychology. 

“Suit yourself,” Emma said.

She started to get up, but Killian moved like lightning, snaking toward her to stop her from rising from the bed.  He searched her eyes again before lying down on his back, his head in her lap.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes closing, face relaxing by degrees.

Emma rested her fingers on Killian’s brow, eliciting a low groan from the boy.  She started stroking his hair and temples, and his face quickly went slack.  His breathing evened out.  After a few minutes, she knew he was asleep. 

She’d never seen his so calm. 

It was strange, having such an intimate moment in such horrible conditions.  But Emma knew there was no way either of them would have ended up sleeping in the other’s arms under normal circumstances.

Right then, as he snored lightly, mouth hanging open, she wondered why she fought it so hard.  Why was she so determined to push him away?  Then her eyes flicked past him to the sheet-wrapped form on the floor.

Emma shivered.

What if that had been Killian?

What if he’d been the one to throw himself in harm’s way to protect his classmates? 

Emma’s chest seized up at the thought.  Her breath caught, and she was suddenly dizzy. 

She felt a hand on her wrist and looked down to see that she had unconsciously taken a fistful of Killian’s vest in her fingers.  His hand had come up to clasp hers.

Killian mumbled something incomprehensible and shifted, rolling half over and snuggling around her arm with a little sigh.  His face tightened in pain as he moved his injured arm, but he quickly relaxed again.  She could feel the heat of each puff of his breath on her thigh through the fabric of her trousers. 

She absolutely refused to think about  _that_.

So, Emma leaned back and rested her head on the wall above the headboard.  She didn’t close her eyes.  She’d said she’d take over the vigil, and she’d meant it.  Also, she had just woken up.  She wasn’t tired… Well, she was exhausted, but she didn’t  _need_  any more sleep.  Her desire to curl up in a ball and close her eyes didn’t have anything to do with her body needing rest.

Emma let out a huff of breath and stroked Killian’s hair with her free hand.  Even filthy as it was, it was soft between her fingers, pleasant.  He sighed at her touch, and Emma smiled.

She woke him when she heard voices, knowing he’d want to be conscious before anyone arrived.

  “Emma,” he mumbled drowsily, eyes still shut, “ohh,  _Emma_ …”

He nuzzled into her lap with a suggestive little groan and Emma felt her cheeks redden.

That wouldn’t do.

“Jones,” Emma hissed, shaking his shoulder.  “Wake up.”

“Hmm?” he murmured, rubbing his face back and forth across her thigh.

She gave him a firm shove, knowing it would pain his injured arm, but needing to wake him quickly.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, bolting upright and cradling his injured arm with his good one.

He glared at her indignantly for a second before his location seemed to dawn on him.  He huffed self-consciously, sitting back and raking his good hand through his hair.

“They’re coming,” Emma said quietly.

Killian met her eyes and nodded once, his jaw clenching.  He slid off the bed, standing and straightening out his clothes.  Emma stood, too, pulling his robe off the bed.  Killian took it from her and quickly yanked the invisibility cloak off the bed and wadded it up.

Standing next to Killian, Emma felt his hand twitch towards hers, and she took it, their fingers sliding easily into a comfortable knot.

* * *

The next hour was a whirlwind of telling and retelling their cover story to villagers, teachers, and then the headmaster.  Killian refused to let go of Emma’s hand, even though it was insisted over and again that he should be taken to the infirmary.  She finally had to escort him there herself.

He was half-delirious by the time Emma and Madam Pomfrey got him tucked into a cot in the infirmary. 

Ruby was laid out on the cot beyond Killian.  There was nothing physically wrong with Ruby, but the matron put both her and Killian to sleep.  Emma tried to protest that she’d slept the night before, but as soon as Killian’s hand went slack on Emma’s, the Madam Pomfrey knocked Emma out as well. 

When she woke up, Emma was clean.  She was dressed in plain, soft cotton pajamas, and her hair was neatly braided.  The infirmary was dark except for moonlight streaming in from the very tops of the west-facing windows.

After midnight, then.

It was odd to think that only two days before, everything had been normal.

Emma looked around. 

There were only three patients in the infirmary.  Killian lay next to her, flat on his back, his forehead crinkled by some dream.  He’d also been bathed and redressed, and his injured arm was unbound and clearly healed.

Beyond Killian, Ruby was curled up on her side with her back to them, her blanket tangled around her as it always was in their dorm.  Ruby was a deep sleeper, but she moved around a lot at night.  Like Emma and Killian, Ruby was dressed in simple pajamas and had been bathed.  Her hair made a pretty braided tail on the pillow behind her.

Emma’s eyes flicked back to Killian, who was shifting uncomfortably, frowning in his sleep.  As she watched, his mouth opened and a choked sob came forth.  His head jerked left and then right, his features contorting.

He was having a nightmare.

“Jones,” Emma whispered, reaching over to touch his shoulder.

He moaned, brow scrunching even tighter.  His hands clenched into fists over his blanket.

“Killian,” Emma said quietly but insistently, shaking him gently.

He woke up abruptly, his eyes popping open to dart around in fear as he leaned up on his elbows.  When his gaze fell on Emma, he blinked in surprise, then his features softened.

“Swan,” he breathed with relief plain in his tone.  He sat up and reached for her beseechingly.

In the safety of the darkness, it was easy to go to him.  Perhaps a little too easy.

Emma slipped off her cot and across the short distance to his. 

Once his arms were around her, he sagged in relief.  He nuzzled his face into her neck, his stubble tickling her skin.  Emma sighed too, relaxing into his embrace. 

They just held each other like they had in the shack, breathing together, reveling in the fact that they were still alive.

And then Killian started kissing her neck.

Emma’s heartbeat sped up. 

Killian’s hands on her back changed from clutching her to caressing.  He shifted his body, pressing his chest to hers, pulling her half into his lap.

Emma let out another little sigh.  Part of her knew this was a bad idea, but another part insisted that they were  _alive_  and shouldn’t they take advantage of moments like this?

She threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up, claiming his lips with hers.

He groaned into her mouth, kissing her fervently, desperately.  She matched him, paced him, kissing back just as good as she got.  Their mouths danced against each other hungrily, lips and teeth and tongues moving in a heady rhythm that made Emma feel giddy.

Killian slid one of his hands up the back of her shirt, stroking her naked spine and leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched.  It felt amazing, but the cautious part of her brain was objecting to the activity loudly.  Emma knew better than to ignore the voice completely.

When she pulled back, she did so reluctantly and in stages.  It took her several tries to finally completely break from Killian.

He gave a little whine of complaint but let her go, leaning back and breathing hard.  Emma’s own breath was quickened, too.

After a moment, Killian’s shoulders shivered, his chest heaving as he drew a ragged breath.

“Emma,” he gasped, surging forward again to press his forehead to hers.  “I traded him for you.  I’ll go to hell for it, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Shut up,” she said, her heart pained by his words.  “It’s not your fault.”

“I could have done something,” he whispered brokenly, shaking his head.

“Shut up,” she repeated gently.

She kissed him again, tender and life-affirming. 

He whimpered into her mouth, clinging to her again and kissing her with rabid desperation.

  “Emma,” he said again, “ _Swan_.”

He made her last name sound like an endearment, like am invocation.

“Shh,” she soothed. 

“Emma,” he whispered.

“Jones,” she said, her tone teasing.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression almost pleading.

“Killian,” she whispered, stroking his cheek with her palm.  “I’m here.  Rest now.”

He sighed again, almost melting as he relaxed. 

Emma gently leaned him back, laying him down, shifting her own weight off his cot.  His eyes had closed, and he looked peaceful again. 

Emma wondered if he’d even remember in the morning.


	14. Late Night Wanderings

The last two weeks of school were a blur for Emma.  Introduction to Muggle Studies was over, and she, Ruby, Mary-Margaret (and every other fifth year) was busy cramming for the O.W.L. exams.   Emma barely saw Killian in passing at meals or in hallways.  She didn’t get to say more than two words to him as she was swept along by her companions. 

She worried about him whenever she had a free thought.

Emma worried about Ruby, too, but her roommate seemed to be coping by throwing herself hard into her studies.  Emma couldn’t help but assist, and she often found herself up past midnight going over some obscure bit of arcane knowledge that Ruby insisted was important.

And that’s how Emma found herself sneaking down to the kitchens at one in the morning with her werewolf friend, both barefoot and pajama-clad.  They had decided to try to convince the house elves to give them a post-midnight snack.

 Neither of the girls had been down to the kitchens before, and it was rather late.  They ended up wandering near the dungeons for the better part of half an hour. 

Sniffing elaborately, Ruby threw her hands up in the air.

“I give up,” she said in exasperation.  “I’m going back to the dorm.”

“Okay,” Emma said with a sigh.  “I’m sorry we couldn’t find it.”

“You can keep looking,” Ruby said, looking over her shoulder for a moment.

Emma thought about it.  She hated to give up on an unfinished quest, but she didn’t want to abandon Ruby.

“No, it’s fine,” Emma said.  “I’ll go with you.”

“Emma, I’m a big girl,” Ruby said.  “I can make it to the dorms alone.  You should keep looking, if you want.”

Emma felt a twinge in her lie detector.  Ruby was hiding something.

“You don’t want me to go with you?” Emma asked cautiously.

“I just think you won’t be… satisfied if you come back, now,” Ruby said.  “Maybe you should go on for a little bit longer.”

Emma frowned.  Ruby was being honest, but something felt off.

“All right,” Emma said, biting her lip.  “I’ll just look around a little longer.  Promise you’ll be careful?”

“I’m good, Ems,” Ruby said.  “Really.  Enjoy your hunt.”

Ruby gave Emma a quick hug and took off down the hallway at a quick lope.

As soon as Ruby disappeared around the corner, Killian Jones appeared, flipping back him invisibility cloak and striding toward her in his navy blue pajamas.

Emma felt a blossom of warmth in her chest and a stab of annoyance at both Killian and Ruby.  She’d  _smelled_  him, Emma was certain. 

 “Have you been watching me?” Emma quietly accused Killian as he stepped into her personal space.

“I watch anyone who is sneaking about the castle after midnight, love,” he said, reaching out to touch a lock of her hair. 

She tried to stay annoyed at him, but his presence was so soothing.

“Can’t sleep?” she said, leaning into his hand. 

“Rarely,” he admitted with a little shrug.  “What were you two looking for down here, love?”

“The entrance to the kitchens,” Emma said, taking a reluctant step back.

“The kitchens are directly under the Great Hall, Swan, not in the dungeons,” he said with a little grin.

“Well, not everyone has a map of the castle,” Emma snarked.

“Or paid attention on their tour, clearly,” he shot back, his tone playful.  “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” Emma admitted.  “Ruby was.  I was mostly keeping her company.”

“But you can’t sleep,” he said, nodding. 

It wasn’t really a question.

She shrugged uncomfortably.

He eyed her for a moment before his face crinkled mischievously.

“How would you like to learn the best-guarded secret in Hogwarts, love?” he said conspiratorially.

Emma gave him an appraising look.

“And what would that be?” she asked, her lips curving up at the corners.

“The location of the Hufflepuff common room,” he declared, tongue between his teeth.

Emma’s eyebrows rose.

“It’s near the kitchens,” Killian said with a little shrug. 

He was suddenly shy.

“Okay,” she said, surprising herself.

He seemed genuinely surprised that she’d agreed. 

He blinked at her and then his face lit up. 

“This way,” he said, offering her his hand.

She took it and let him lead her through the maze of corridors that made up the lower levels of the castle.  Eventually, they found themselves in a cellar-like hall that had barrels stacked in one corner.  Killian approached the barrels cautiously. 

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing to the barrels.  “Best hide you under the cloak, in case anyone else is up.”

“All right,” she said with a little laugh.  “You know I won’t remember where this is in the morning.”

He went completely still, and Emma realized that he probably inferred that she meant she would be saying the night.

Would she?

He flipped the cloak over her and she was glad to be concealed while she chewed on that thought.

Killian took a breath and squared his shoulders before rapping firmly on one of the barrels in a pattern of five taps: two slower, and then three quick. 

A secret door swung open, and Killian stepped back, gesturing for Emma to go in ahead of him.  Emma walked past him, ducking through the round door.  She let the cloak brush him as she went, so he’d know she’d gone through.

He followed close behind her, his hand coming up to touch her invisible back.

The common room was empty, but Emma stayed under the cloak.

The room was cozy.  Little golden reading lamps were spaced out between over-stuffed chairs and sofas.  There were dancing plants hanging along the walls and climbing up the circular window frames.  It was dark outside the windows, but Emma could imagine the sunlight streaming in during the day.  The ceiling was low, but it didn’t make the room feel claustrophobic. 

Killian walked toward one of the two archways—well, tunnels, really—that lead from the common room.

“This goes to… That is, would you like to see..?” he stammered quietly, and Emma was shocked to see Killian’s cheeks going pink.

“Your room?” Emma murmured, glad that she was invisible.

Killian nodded, eyes down.

Good lord, he was adorable when he was shy.

Emma crept toward Killian and took his hand in hers through the cloak.  He squeezed her fingers and then turned to the tunnel, ducking his head and moving at a fairly quick pace.

They meandered through a maze of underground caverns, passing perfectly round doors every so often.  They climbed and descended, like they were in an actual burrow. 

Killian stopped at a door that looked like the dozen they’d already passed and he fiddled with the knob before opening it and standing back to let Emma through. 

She crossed the curved threshold and stepped into the middle of the room, looking around with curiosity.  There wasn’t much light, but the hallways had been dark, so her eyes were well-enough adjusted to deal with just the dim illumination from the single lamp that was burning in the chamber.

The room was round, which shouldn’t have surprised her.  There were a dozen circular windows set high in the walls.  There weren’t curtains on the windows, but both of the large four-poster beds were equipped with rods and thick drapes to block out the light if one wished. 

The beds were near one another, mirrored on opposite sides by dressers and tables.  There was a seating area with sofas and cushions opposite the beds and two wide desks with swivel chairs.  

One of the sets of furniture was completely bare.  The desk was empty and the bed was stripped of linens.  The other half of the room was very lived-in.  Killian’s desk was scattered with parchments and quills.  Books were stacked up above and below it.  His dresser had clothes hanging out of the drawers.  His Quidditch gear was scattered haphazardly beneath one of the windows.  Despite the rest of the clutter, his bed was made neatly, which seemed like a strange contrast to the disarray of the rest of the room.

Behind Emma, the door clicked shut, so she threw off the invisibility cloak. 

Killian shuffled beside her, clearing his throat. 

“So this—” he started, his voice coming out as a squeak.  He coughed and tried again.  “So this is my room.  Formerly mine and Graham’s.”

Emma nodded.

“Very cozy,” she said quietly.

“Aye,” Killian said.  “We Hufflepuffs enjoy our creature comforts.”

Emma smiled at that and wandered toward Killian’s desk.  She ran her hand along the parchments, examining his neat handwriting without reading more than a word or two of any page.  He had lovely penmanship, and he tended to add little hooked flourishes to certain letters. 

Emma walked past Killian’s dresser, looking at the assortment of small items scattered across the top of it.  It looked like he turned out his pockets there.  She found coins, pretty stones, and the random sort of items that tended to end up in one’s pockets throughout the day. 

Stepping toward the bed, so ran her palm along the patchwork quilt done in yellows and black.  It looked warm and comfortable.

“Emma, I…” Killian started when she touched the bed.

Emma turned around.

He was shy again, and his brow was furrowed.

“I didn’t… I’m not expecting…” He stammered, gesturing fitfully.  “I don’t want you to think— I didn’t bring you here to…”

“Killian,” Emma said gently.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers.  He looked terrified and ashamed.

“I  _know_ ,” she said, holding his gaze.

He let out a little sigh of relief, one hand rising to scratch at the back of his head before he spoke again.

“It just seems from experience,” he said, “that we both sleep better in each other’s… company, so…  I thought, perhaps…”

He trailed off, his eyes darting to the bed and then back to her.

Emma blushed, and she was glad to see that his cheeks were pink, too.

She nodded, and then as if on cue, she yawned.

Killian echoed the yawn and then they were both nervously laughing.

“Come on, then,” Emma teased, crooking her finger at him.  “I knew you were all talk.”

Killian’s jaw fell open comically.

Emma hopped up onto the patchwork quilt.  The mattress was pleasantly springy, soft and full.  It was wide enough for three or four people, if they were very friendly.  Creature comforts indeed. 

“Emma,” Killian said, his voice low and cautious.

“No funny business,” Emma said, blushing and biting her lip.  “We both need sleep.”

He nodded enthusiastically, still looking shy.

Emma knew she had circles under her eyes, and Killian did too.  His cheeks were scruffy, again, which she liked, but the stubble was against dress code. 

They could both really do with a good night’s sleep.

Emma pulled the quilt loose and wriggled between the sheets. 

Eventually, Killian doused the light and joined her, drawing the curtains around the bed.  He shuffled about on his side of the mattress, adjusting blankets and pillows before he scooted a little closer to the center.  He inhaled sharply when he found Emma already in the middle of the bed.

Emma snuggled into the crook of Killian’s arm instinctively, her whole body relaxing as she sighed.  He sighed too as he wrapped his arms around her.   Emma pillowed her head on Killian’s shoulder.  He kissed the top of her head.

Emma thought again about how easy it was with him sometimes.  Like falling.

Like falling in—

“Emma,” he said abruptly, his voice fervent.  “I lo—”

“Don’t say it,” she pleaded, her whole body stiffening.  She screwed her eyes shut. 

How did he always know what she was thinking?

He sighed.

“Let’s just sleep, okay?” she begged, her voice small.

“As you wish,” he said wistfully.

He kissed her hair again and stroked her arm, trying to get her to relax. 

Emma did relax, unable to fight against the calm he instilled in her.  She’d eventually have to face the feelings she knew he had and the ones she tried to fight. 

But not that night.

With a sigh, Emma gripped Killian’s shirt tight and let sleep claim her.


End file.
